


Mortality

by Boomchick



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Blood and Gore, Character Death, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Psychological Trauma, Suicide Attempt, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-01-10 07:10:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boomchick/pseuds/Boomchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hojo has always destroyed what Sephiroth loves most, be it a thing or a person. Sephiroth should have hidden his love for Cloud more carefully.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The warnings on this story mean business. Please protect yourself from any possible triggers!
> 
> This story was inspired by the incomparable Tomowowo during one of our many conversations. Even she, who knew what was coming, told me to let you know that she is 'hiding under her desk crying and drawing.' Keep your eyes open for illustrations of this story from her!

**Mortality**

“I don't see what you intend to accomplish.”

Sephiroth's voice was even and calm, even as he tested the restraints that held his arms to the floor. He was weak—no one could succeed so thoroughly in weakening him as Hojo. The chains clinked, but did not give. They would continue to hold steady, he was certain. He had tried many times through the years to escape the confines of Hojo's traps, but they had always held fast, and he suspected they always would.

The scientist's glasses flashed as he ducked his head, a low chuckle escaping him. The laugh sent chills down Sephiroth's spine, though he refused to allow the fear to show on his face. He knew better than to give him any reaction. Any emotion from him was encouragement to Hojo. There was no such thing as a safe response. So the best he could give was no response at all. It was his only option, especially now that his duties as General would not allow him time to recover from rough treatment at his creator's hands.

“You have been missing our appointments lately, boy,” Hojo said, his voice low and filled with some sort of satisfaction that Sephiroth could not comprehend, and did not wish to.

“Is it your intent to punish me?” he asked dryly, sitting back and shifting as the chains rubbed over his wrists once again. “Because if so--”

“Oh, you I am done with,” Hojo scoffed. “After all, you do not want to be here, hmm? That is why you haven't been coming, isn't it? All you ever had to do, Sephiroth, was ask. I would have stopped experimenting on you long ago.”

“Really,” Sephiroth drawled in disbelief. “I take leave to doubt that, Professor.”

“Doubt all you like,” Hojo laughed, turning to Sephiroth with a sneer. “Shall I prove it to you?”

A snap of his fingers led to a bound figure being dragged into the room by two of his guards. Sephiroth felt his blood run cold. He recognized that head of blonde hair.

–

_'Sir,' the trooper said, his voice shaking and his eyes so wide it must have burned to have them open in the cold air._

–

“What is the meaning of this?” Sephiroth snarled.

The guards unceremoniously dumped Cloud's limp form onto one of the cold metal tables Hojo used for his experiments. The cadet jolted at the freezing contact, and struggled automatically as his arms were wrenched away from his chest and shackled down to the hard surface. Sephiroth saw the moment his dazed, tired struggles shifted as he woke up fully from whatever had been done to him. He almost slipped free with a particularly hard buck and twist. Instead, he was just slammed down onto the mockery of a bed much harder, the impact wringing a groan from him.

“He is a member of Shinra's military,” Sephiroth said darkly, watching Hojo and pulling experimentally against the bonds that held him down. His legs were free, but his wrists remained tightly pinned behind his back, connected to the ground by a steel plate, bolted to the floor.

“So are you,” Hojo said calmly with a dismissive wave of his hand. “They won't miss one trooper. Surely you won't either.”

The light in his eyes when he looked back at Sephiroth said it all. Sephiroth pulled against the chains more insistently, and let the anger boiling inside of him slip through to his face. It didn't matter if Hojo punished him. If he did, maybe he could give Cloud time—Give someone time to come save him.

“Don't you fucking dare,” Sephiroth snarled at the scientist.

“Sir?” Cloud's voice was strained and rusty, as though he'd just woken up.

He must have been drugged to be brought down here, Sephiroth thought. His eyes sought him out, and Sephiroth thought his heart would stop at the concern and worry that flickered over the cadet's face. Cloud was worried about him. His chest tightened, and his breathing seized up in his chest. Hojo just smiled, and stepped up to Cloud's side, sliding gloves onto his hands.

“No,” Sephiroth rasped, staring fixedly at Cloud's face. “No.”

Hojo just smiled and lowered the scalpel.

Cloud's scream pierced straight through Sephiroth. His eyes widened, turning to Hojo as he jerked against the bonds. Hojo laughed and withdrew his scalpel after the first cut, letting Cloud thrash. Sephiroth pulled hard against the chains, feeling his shoulders strain, his feet slipping against the ground as he made no headway.

“Go ahead and struggle,” Hojo said mildly to Cloud. “I'll wait.”

“Seph,” Cloud cried, his voice filled with terror and confusion.

Sephiroth saw Hojo's smile deepen, and knew they'd been found out. The man knew. He would not stop until Cloud was destroyed. Just as he'd killed the assistants who grew close to him. Just as he'd killed the kitten Sephiroth rescued in his youth. Just as he'd killed Gast. Sephiroth strained against his manacles.

“If you touch another hair on his head, I'll kill you,” Sephiroth snarled, summoning his most intense glare to fix upon the scientist.

Hojo smiled slowly, and ran his gloved hand through Cloud's blond hair with an amused, wicked look in his eyes. Sephiroth jerked against the bonds as Cloud gasped at the touch, his bound hands twitching helplessly, unable to remove the parody of an affectionate gesture.

“I have touched a multitude of hairs now,” Hojo said with deep amusement, meeting Sephiroth's gaze evenly. “I appear to still be ambulatory. So the experiment will continue.”

“Cloud,” Sephiroth said, waiting for his young lover's eyes to meet his own. The panic in them cut straight to his heart. “Cloud, be strong. I will get you out.”

“He is lying,” Hojo said mildly, taking the momentary break in Cloud's struggles as a chance to cinch the band holding his waist to the table, effectively ending his thrashing. “You are going to die here, boy. And he is going to watch.”

“Fuck you,” Cloud spat up at the scientist, his eyes blazing, even as he jerked against the manacles once more.

Hojo just smiled, braced his left hand against Cloud's chest, and then resumed cutting, siding the knife through skin that was before unscarred, and perfect—that Sephiroth had worshiped with kisses and touches so light they'd tickled and drawn a rare, perfect laugh from his bashful self-effacing lover. And as Hojo cut through skin and muscle, Cloud screamed. His screams filled the room, covering even the death-threats spilling without thought from Sephiroth's lips. And as Sephiroth turned wide, panicked eyes to him, he knew he would not be able to save him.

-

_“Sephiroth, I want you to meet my friend Cloud,” Zack said warmly, giving the hair of the trooper standing next to him a fierce ruffle._

_The trooper looked like he wanted to run. His eyes were wide as a startled deer's, staring up at him. Sephiroth was quietly impressed that he didn't bolt. Most non-Soldiers ran from him within a few moments. He was not an approachable person. Still, the cadet managed to sneak his hand up from his side and force it into a salute, his back straightening. Sephiroth couldn't help the flicker of a smile that flitted over his face._

_“Good to meet you, Cloud.”_

_–_

_“Sir, we shouldn't,” Cloud whispered, pressed back against the alley wall, arching into Sephiroth's every touch._

_“Does that mean you want me to stop?” Sephiroth purred before going back to delicately kissing down Cloud's neck as he slid the button-down shirt off of his shoulders to drop onto the filthy ground._

_“No,” Cloud whispered, his voice stronger than it had been in his objection._

_Sephiroth smiled against his shoulder and rewarded him with a soft bite, making the young cadet gasp and arch into him. He was a bad man for doing this, he knew. But he'd seen the interest in his eyes the second time Zack dragged him along to 'hang out,' and it had still been there the third. So now they were in the alley, the cadet shirtless and panting, his hands twitching at his sides as he tried to decide where to put them on Sephiroth's body._

_He was about to take pity on the cadet and place his hands for him, when Cloud's reticence suddenly evaporated. His fingers slid upwards abruptly, delving into the waterfall of Sephiroth's hair and cupping the back of his head, encouraging him silently to continue his pleasurable torture bringing hickeys to life on delicate skin. Sephiroth could not help the chuckle that slid from him, or the arousal Cloud's decisive motion brought._

–

“I forget how quickly non-enhanced people bleed,” Hojo sighed as he peeled back the sides of the incision he'd made.

Cloud wasn't screaming anymore. He was struggling for breath, his eyes hazy, rolled back in his head. He was in shock, Sephiroth knew. His brain was stopping function. His blood was pouring down the drain under the work table as Hojo slid his hands inside his abdomen, inspecting his insides with detached interest.

“Please,” Sephiroth heard himself say, his death-threats dried up by his own helplessness. “Please, stop.”

“Pity I can't remove his ribs without killing him too quickly,” Hojo muttered to himself, sliding his hand upward underneath the bones.

Cloud's breath seized, and he jolted automatically in the restraints.

“Please,” Sephiroth choked, yanking again on his sore arms, making his wrists bleed anew. “Professor--”

“Miss his screams, boy?” Hojo drawled, smiling wickedly. “Let me help.”

He pressed down on something inside Cloud's abdomen, and a reedy, powerless scream pried itself from between Cloud's lips, followed by a stream of blood trickling down from between them. His head lolled to the side, his hazy eyes staring straight at Sephiroth as he gasped for breath.

“I'm so sorry,” Sephiroth whispered, as though Cloud could still hear him. “Cloud, I'm so sorry.”

“Well, this will be much too quick,” Hojo sighed, pulling his gloves off with a snap and dropping them onto Cloud's chest. He snapped his fingers and pointed to an assistant. “Fetch me a Phoenix Down for when he dies. In fact, fetch me the box.”

“I'm so sorry,” Sephiroth rasped again, twisting at his hands in their bonds, fresh hope raging through him like a disease at the thought that maybe, maybe he could dislocate his thumb before Cloud was ripped apart a second time. Maybe he could save him before Hojo tore him to shreds again. Before he died for good.

He watched as Cloud bled out, lips parted and eyes empty on Hojo's table. Watched as the man dropped a Phoenix Down onto his chest—as sliced skin knitted itself back together—as Cloud gasped inwards, arching as he was forced back into life, choking and spitting blood as his insides were healed.

“Now we can continue,” Hojo said with a smile.

–

_“Tell me your dreams, Cloud,” Sephiroth murmured, stroking his fingers through soft blonde hair as they lay in bed together._

_“My dreams?” The cadet inquired, lifting striking blue eyes to Sephiroth._

_Sephiroth gave a shadow of a smile at the look. There was still awe in Cloud's gaze, but no terror and no hero worship. He looked up and saw him only as Sephiroth and nothing more. He rewarded him for the look with a gentle kiss to his brow, though he knew Cloud would not follow his reasoning._

_“I want to be a Soldier,” Cloud replied after a long moment. “I have since I was just a kid.”_

_“I see.”_

_“What about you, sir? What are your dreams?”_

_Sephiroth did not reply. He just kissed Cloud's face lightly, and thought the dream to himself—the same dream he'd had his entire life. As Cloud turned over and nuzzled into his chest, Sephiroth closed his eyes, and wished quietly for freedom._

–

“Usually you stop fighting by the second hour,” Hojo commented as he slid another needle into Cloud's arm, sending the gasping man into heavy convulsions.

Sephiroth strained, eyes fixed on Cloud as he foamed at the mouth and seized on the table. Maybe he could rip his arms off, he thought feverishly. If he could pull hard enough—if he could not break the chains, he would break himself. He kicked back against the chain holding him to the ground, struggling to provide enough force on his hands to break them. All the while Hojo muttered to himself, taking notes as Cloud thrashed and foamed, pathetic, sick noises wringing from him as he struggled automatically.

Sephiroth broke off his struggles for a moment, breathing heavily, as Hojo lifted another Phoenix Down twisting it back and forth between his fingers.

“Shall I bring him back this time?” The scientist asked as Cloud wheezed and choked on the table. “It only works so many times, you know. Each time it will heal less of the damage. Each time, he comes back just to experience more pain. Shall I bring him back again? Let him watch you struggle as he dies? I've brought him back once already. This Phoenix Down will work, but this will probably be his last one. I'll leave the choice to you.”

Sephiroth glared at him with pure fury in his eyes, straining against his bonds. Hojo held his eyes, not smiling. His look was grim and angry. Full of bitterness and the old hatred for Sephiroth's choices that the General had known for years.

“So,” Hojo said softly and darkly.

Cloud gasped pathetically under him, a rattle in his lungs that heralded death, jolting as his body gave out around him.

“Do you think you can tear yourself apart in time to save him with this one last feather,” the scientist lifted the blazing plume. “Or are you going to let him die now, before I play any more games with him?”

Sephiroth lowered his head, snarling fiercely, his hair falling around his face, an utter mess from his wild and furious struggles.

“Do it,” he rasped as Cloud jolted once more before groaning out a final breath, his eyes going distant and dead all over again.

“You'll fail,” Hojo whispered, placing the feather down over Cloud's heart where it burned away. “And then you will know. That you gave him a death with so much more pain than he had to experience.”

Cloud's body rebelled as he was dragged back to life. Hojo had to call his assistants over to keep him from aspirating his own vomit. Sephiroth worked at the bonds on his hands, trying not to let himself break as he watched his lover suffer as no man should be made to. His lover, who he'd only ever seen as vibrant and happy and lively.

“No,” He whispered as Hojo pulled out the electrodes from the wall.

“You are the one who asked for this,” the scientist said mildly, sticking the electrodes to Cloud's chest and stomach.

“Seph,” Cloud choked, tears streaming from his blank eyes as he sought out Sephiroth's gaze. He couldn't focus anymore. Sephiroth could see it in the look on his face.

He tried to tell him it would be alright. He tried to tell him he would save him this time. He could say nothing. He was wordless in the face of his pain. Of the sorrow, betrayal, and exhaustion he saw in his eyes. He should have let him die, a rebellious part of him whispered. He pulled against the chains, his body screaming in pain at the movement.

“Let us see,” Hojo whispered, brushing his hand familiarly over Cloud's face. “Whether electricity takes a little longer to kill such a fragile little thing.”

–

_“I know we were supposed to be casual,” Cloud whispered, blushing fire red behind the armful of flowers. “But, um...”_

_“They're beautiful,” Sephiroth interrupted, reaching forward to take the flowers. “Thank you.”_  
 _Cloud let out a breath, and gave Sephiroth a warm, glowing smile that made Sephiroth's heart warm like no one else's. He had to lean forward and kiss him. He couldn't have left that sweet smile unkissed._

_“I think casual is overrated.” Sephiroth whispered against his lips._

_Cloud moved forward swiftly, catching Sephiroth in a hug so quickly that the general had to lift the gift of flowers out of the way of him. Unenhanced, his hold was still tight as he clung to Sephiroth._

_“You asked me once, about my dream,” Cloud whispered softly. “I just want you to know. You're part of it too now.”_

_“Thank you,” Sephiroth whispered, even as he silently checked on his own dream._

_He found it had changed too. Still 'freedom,' but now 'with Cloud.'_  
–

“Do you hear that sound?” Hojo asked mildly. “That's his teeth grinding together. If I do my job right, he'll break them before he dies.”

The scientist cut the current, letting Cloud drop limply to the hard table he'd been arching against as the electricity ran its terrible course. The cadet was shaking and drooling. Sobs wrung from him with every exhale. There was blood streaming out of his nose, and he'd bitten clean through his lower lip.  
Sephiroth felt the manacle slip, and yanked forward, feeling horror and terror ebb in the face of the possibility that he might break free—that maybe he hadn't signed Cloud up for the most painful drawn-out death imaginable.

Hojo threw the switch again, smiling as Cloud jolted, arching hard as every one of his muscles was forced to contract.

“It won't work this time,” he said loudly, over the roar of effort breaking from Sephiroth's lips. “But I'm going to put the Phoenix Down to him when he dies anyway. Just to watch your heart break. Just to see the look on your face when you realize that you killed the man you love.”

“Cloud,” Sephiroth choked, straining against the bonds, feeling them slip, knowing that in just another inch, in just another moment, he would be free.

But even as he thought it he saw the light leave his lover's eyes, watched him choke and stop breathing, even as the electricity kept his muscles tight and his body twitching. Sephiroth felt the scream of horror more than he heard it. It burst out of him like a force. Horror and rage built up under the surface as he watched Hojo bend over his table, laughing to himself at the pain his lover had experienced in his final moments.

And something inside Sephiroth snapped. He felt an enormous weight erupt from his back, showering blood over the wall behind him. He knew without looking it was a wing. Somehow he had always known it was there. Hojo stopped laughing. And as he looked up, Sephiroth beat the wing once, and his hands ripped free of the manacles with a snap of bone and a rip of flesh. It took less than a heartbeat for him to be at Hojo's side. For just an instant, he saw a look of pleased wonder on the Scientist's face. Then he snapped his neck, and let his body drop.  
Sephiroth slammed the current off without thought. He was on auto-pilot. The assistant that moved forward to stop him, he murdered with a single kick to the chest. The other assistant ran. Sephiroth did not follow. He was free. His Cloud was--

Cloud lay still and empty on the bed, his eyes glazed and staring blankly upwards. His lips were parted, his body covered in blood. The bonds were sickeningly tight on his dead body. Sephiroth moved over, fumbling with broken hands at the bonds, snapping them without grace, gathering Cloud's corpse into his arms, not yet comprehending that he was dead. He stared down at that empty face, a look of horror permanently etched on his features, and tears drying on his cheeks.

“No,” he whispered, drawing Cloud close, kneeling on the metal table to hold him.

Congealing blood soaked through the knees of his pants from the bed Cloud had been chained to. He stroked a broken, bloody hand through Cloud's hair, barely noticing as the wing dissolved behind him. His stomach twisted, rebelling against the thought of his lover's death. He looked down at Hojo's corpse, at the burning feather held in his hand. It wouldn't work, the scientist had said. Sephiroth stood anyway, carefully setting Cloud's body back on the bed. He lifted the phoenix down in both hands, his hands dripping blood onto the scientist's body and the delicate plume.

“Please work,” he whispered to the feather held in his trembling hands as he brought it back to his Cloud, laying it over his chest lightly. “Please.”

He covered the feather with his bloody hands, staring down at Cloud's bloody face and the bruised look of his eyes. He closed his eyes lightly, pressing down, waiting for the feather to be drawn up into his lover. The seconds ticked by, and with every moment, he felt himself draw closer to breaking.

–

_“So you really don't like movies?” The cadet asked with a smile. “Alright. Maybe we could read together tonight?”_

–

Nothing changed. No heartbeat. No vanishing of the feather. Sephiroth pressed more tightly.

–

_“I think Zack broke me,” Cloud groaned, leaning back into Sephiroth's hands with utter trust. “I love being his student. I just can't wait to get another mako infusion so I can survive it.”_

–

“Save him,” Sephiroth urged, staring down at his lover's face. “You have to save him.”

–

_“It's beautiful,” Cloud sighed, looking at the pictures of Wutai that Sephiroth was showing him. “I want to go, some day. Though maybe not to a war this time...”_

_–_

  
“If you don't save him, I will burn you to the ground,” Sephiroth whispered, his eyes flaring as he gazed at his lover's face. “If he dies, I will destroy everything and everyone. A world without Cloud doesn't deserve to exist!”

–

_“Thank you for inviting me,” Cloud whispered, shy and pleased to be asked to go out with Zack and Sephiroth. “I'm not really used to being invited places.”_

–

“But if—If you do save him, I will do anything,” Sephiroth whispered, pressing down just a little more, feeling his voice shaking as his hope faded, dwindling as despair sank in, carrying with it the strange feeling of detachment that he felt in battle. “I will do anything.”

–

_“Sephiroth,” Cloud whispered, his eyes shining as he looked up at him without fear—without jealousy—without pity._

–

“I'll do anything...”

–

_“I love you.”_

–

“I love him.” Sephiroth whispered, dropping his head to rest it on Cloud's chest, choking on a sob, though he could not cry. “I love him...”

“Anything,” a woman's voice whispered in the air around him, strong and dark and beautiful. “Remember your promise, Calamity's child.”

His hands burned as the feather beneath them ignited. Cloud gasped in a breath, choking on his own spit.

Sephiroth moved without thought, quick as lightning, lifting Cloud into his arms, holding him close as he coughed out blood and spit and vomit, struggling to breathe. The first breath he drew was followed by a scream that filled the air, making Sephiroth's ears ring with its intensity. He tightened his hold on the little blonde, holding him as close as he dared as he felt his muscles trembled and jolted with weakness under his skin. His nose was filled with the scent of Cloud's blood, drying on his body and the floor.

“I have you,” Sephiroth rasped, clinging to him as Cloud screamed and shook in his arms, hands limp and useless by his sides. “I have you, Cloud.”

The screaming didn't stop, but Cloud's hands lifted, grabbing hold of Sephiroth as tightly as he could, clinging as the screams turned to sobs as they sat tangled together on the blood stained table. Sephiroth glanced down as the broken body of the man who had made his life a living hell since he was born twitched, death stiffening the husk that was all that remained of Hojo.

“Cloud, breathe,” Sephiroth pleaded, hoping Cloud could hear him through the screams. “Please breathe. I cannot take you from here if you are screaming.”

A choked cry of protest arose from Cloud, and the cadet's hands wrapped around Sephiroth's shoulders, clinging tightly to him, he sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder, and Sephiroth knew he was asking the impossible of the young man he loved.

“Bite down,” he urged softly. “You will not hurt me. I will take you home.”

Cloud bit down, his teeth sinking into Sephiroth's shoulder even as he breathed as deeply as he could through his nose. Sephiroth lifted him, not letting his broken hands shake. He walked out of the room, clinging tightly to his love and murmuring reassurances—all the reassurances as he could, though he knew they were lies.  
As he left the lab, he felt a strangeness in the outside air, and the woman's voice whispered to him again.

“A promise is a promise. When the time comes, you will be my warrior. Not the calamity's. Welcome to your new chance, Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth said nothing. The owner of the voice had saved his Cloud. He would serve her, no matter how her voice made his insides churn. His Cloud was breathing, biting him, trembling under his hands, but warm, and alive. Sephiroth could feel his heartbeat against his own. Whatever it took to keep that heartbeat in the world, he would do it.

“Hojo will never touch you again,” Sephiroth whispered to him, kissing his hair as he slipped inside his apartment, carrying Cloud into the bathroom and sinking into the bathtub with him, letting it stay dry and empty, pulling the curtain to cut off the outside world. “I am so sorry. He will never touch you again.”

And if Cloud did not respond, Sephiroth did not blame him.

“You can scream again,” he offered softly, stroking his lover's hair with shaking hands that were already healing. “You can scream, my Cloud. I have you.”

Neither of them slept. They stayed up in the bathtub all night as Cloud screamed and shivered and clung. In the morning, when he was empty of screams and he looked as lost as Sephiroth had ever seen a man, he turned the shower on and washed him clean of blood, and took him to bed.  
He tucked him in carefully, trying not to hesitate over the new scars marring his once-perfect skin. He dropped a shaking kiss to his wet hair, and turned to go start tea and make the calls he knew needed to be made.

He was stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist.

“Don't leave,” Cloud whispered, his voice shattered from all of his screams.

“Alright,” Sephiroth replied, sinking to sit on the bed next to him.

Neither of them spoke. In a few hours, Sephiroth knew the Turks would come looking for him, and he did not know what he would tell them. He knew his job was over. He knew they would probably want to kill him. They wouldn't, though. Hojo was dead. There was no one who could stop him now. And he would protect Cloud, no matter what. So long as Cloud wanted him by his bedside, that was where he would be.


	2. Chapter 2

Cloud did not recover himself. Sephiroth could not help him. He stayed close, though he was helpless to save the blond from the horrors that he had been through and that no power could ever remove from him. When Cloud finally fell asleep, it was exhaustion and not peace that dragged him there. He dropped into unconsciousness with a whimper of fear, uncertain what awaited him there. Sephiroth knew what he would find. There would be nothing but nightmares awaiting his lover in his mind, filled with flashing glasses. The thought of his lover having nightmares of being tortured—of Sephiroth himself bound and watching—it made him sick to consider.

He could feel himself starting to phase out into the blankness of memories that often consumed him after an experience with Hojo. The memory of snapping the man's neck lifted to the forefront of Sephiroth's mind, and he shoved himself deeper into the blankness of un-feeling that he hid within. He could not afford to let that blood-lust rise. He drifted, his hand resting on Cloud's arm.

 

–

_  
At the insistence of both Genesis and Angeal, Sephiroth once tried to report Hojo's gross misconduct towards him and his staff. It was during the war, when he was still young—when his world was still in flux. He was new to everything. From the outside, to friendship, to doctors who fixed injuries without first making them worse. It was during that time that Sephiroth attended a seminar hosted by the Turks, and learned a new name for what Hojo did to him—'Torture.'_

_It had started out benignly enough. Vague descriptions of what they might encounter. The psychological effects and scars. How to survive. But that was not enough for Shinra. They needed to know that all of the Soldiers knew what it would look like—could envision it so that they would know it when it came._

_It was when the pictures started that Sephiroth began to realize why the speech had made it all sound so familiar. Bound men, bodies arched and bowed in agony, or pinned down to tables. Their faces were blurred, but Sephiroth knew what they would look like. They would either be screaming in agony, or dead to the world. Because that was how he always looked. He took a deep breath, physically gripping the arm of the chair he was sitting in to keep himself still and calm._

_It was at that moment that Tseng caught his gaze and paused in the drawling speech he'd been giving with an air of exhaustion that suggested he'd given this speech before. Sephiroth could feel his dark, clever eyes assessing all that he was._

_“Some victims,” the Wutaian man finally said, facing the young members of the military, “Will never disclose what has happened to them. It falls to you, as their comrades, to know that something is wrong.”_

_Sephiroth did not dare comment. But he felt the eyes of Genesis and Angeal upon him._

__  
–

 

Sephiroth was roused from his thoughts as Cloud stirred beside him. A small, pained gasp escaped his small lover as he shifted and shuddered, hands clawing in the sheets that swaddled him. Sephiroth stroked a wide hand over his hair, hoping that Cloud would fall back into sleep quickly.

“You are safe.” Sephiroth whispered as Cloud started shivering next to him.

Cloud did not respond. Sephiroth was not sure if that was because it was the wrong thing to say, or because there was no right thing to say. Instead of trying again, he held his silence and brushed his fingers through his lover's hair.

Eventually, Cloud dropped into an exhausted sleep once more, and Sephiroth let his eyes unfocus and his mind wander. He could not afford to break over what had happened to his Cloud. He could not afford to let himself be broken when Cloud needed him whole.

 

–

_  
“Why did he look at you?” Genesis demanded, whirling on Sephiroth the moment they were inside the tent, away from prying eyes and ears._

_“I believe,” Sephiroth whispered after taking a moment to assure himself that the look on his 'friend's' face was not one of jealousy, “that it was due to the fact that many of the images in his presentation resembled procedures and experiments Hojo has conducted on me.”_

_“What do you mean?” Angeal asked softly, a look like horror slowly dawning in his eyes. “You go see him every two weeks.”_

_“Yes,” Sephiroth said softly. “I do.”_

__  
–

 

The same three knocks that had sounded every half hour like clockwork came again, and Sephiroth clenched his jaw, ignoring it once more. On the bed, Cloud gave a pathetic, ragged cough, curling in on himself slowly under the warm blankets. His skin was pale, and he had broken out in a cold sweat. Sephiroth rested his hand against Cloud's forehead, but could not tell whether the heat he found there was normal or not.

He knew it was the Turks outside. He should probably speak with them. He should speak to anyone. If the news of Hojo's demise and his rebellion reached the president with no explanation, it would only get worse. And yet he could not leave Cloud alone in the bedroom, shaking and nightmare-ridden. Not to speak with the Turks. Not to talk to the men who knew what Hojo did, and what had happened to Sephiroth over the years. Not to those who had known all along and had neither said nor done anything about it. He simply could not bring himself to.

He could have been free of Hojo years ago, his inner voice whispered to himself, though he knew in his heart it was not as simple as that. Not even Lazard, who had always been fond of him, was ever able to help.

 

–

_  
“I take it it didn't go well,” Genesis murmured with an unsurprised sigh._

_Sephiroth shook his head briefly, just once. Angeal looked worried—almost heartbroken—but Sephiroth chose to ignore him in favor of unstrapping his boots at the tent's entrance, unwilling to track mud inside._

_“Why won't they help?” Angeal asked softly. “It's obvious he's abused you, so surely Lazard--”_

_“Drop it, Angeal,” Sephiroth snapped, stalking past both his friends to drop onto his cot._

_He stayed there, unmoving, until Genesis sat lightly at his bedside an hour before wake-up call._

_“Mr. Honor and Dreams is asleep, Seph. You can say what happened now.”_

_“Genesis--”_

_“It will eat you up inside otherwise,” His often mercurial friend warned. “You have my word, no one but the two of us will ever know. Not unless you tell them.”_

_“I--” Sephiroth started, hesitant to put what he had learned into words. “I am property.”_

_“Property?”_

_“I do not even have a birth certificate,” Sephiroth added, still not daring to face his friend for fear of what he would see in his eyes. “Only a bill of sale. Shinra owns me.”_

__  
–

 

Cloud jerked awake with a short scream, flailing as if fighting against restraints that no longer held him. Sephiroth moved back, letting him thrash. He knew the feeling of phantom bands, and how much worse trying to hold him still would have made it.

“You are safe, Cloud,” Sephiroth said again, trying to make his voice comforting while still being audible above Cloud's strained cries.

If Cloud heard him, he didn't respond. Sephiroth watched him jerk and scream as though he were still being electrocuted, and tried not to break. He wanted to curl up with him in bed and scream in tandem with him. He had never been so helpless. Never had to watch while his world was torn apart. Not since he was a child, losing anything he loved to Hojo's fury. It brought too many memories, seeing Cloud like this. Still suffering. Still—

Sephiroth frowned deeply in fear, shifting forward, watching closely as Cloud's thrashing slowed. His body was too tired to keep up with the fear his mind was still experiencing. A trail of blood seeped down from Cloud's nose. He was pale. Paler than any normal person should be. His hair stuck to his head with sweat, and even as his eyes fell slowly closed again Sephiroth could see burst blood vessels inside. He was still injured, he realized in horror. The Phoenix Down had brought him back, but he was still hurt.

“I'll be back,” Sephiroth whispered touching Cloud's head. “I need to get you a cure.”

“Don't go,” Cloud choked out.

Sephiroth froze. He'd thought his lover was unconscious, but as Cloud's eyes slowly opened, he realized it was only because his lover did not have the spirit to hold his gaze open any longer.

“Don't go,” Cloud repeated, the words numb and slurred on his lips.

“Alright,” Sephiroth whispered.

Cloud's eyes closed again. He wheezed softly as he fell still once more. Sephiroth pulled his phone out slowly. He needed the cure. He needed to protect Cloud. The only option was his one remaining friend. He made the call as quickly as he could, though he was far from specific over the phone. He was willing to call in backup, but knew full well their conversation would be heard by prying ears.

 

–

_  
“I always wanted to be a Soldier,” Cloud said, looking out of Sephiroth's window at the city. “I guess I didn't know everything that would go into that. All the sacrifices.”_

_“So you've changed your mind?” Sephiroth asked, watching his lover, silently admiring his powerful stance and the handsome cut of his jaw._

_“Of course not,” Cloud replied swiftly, looking back at him in faint surprise. “Why would I change my mind? I didn't have anything before this. I didn't have any joy at all before. Now I've got you. I'd like to see anyone try to make me want to turn around.”_

_“Genesis and Angeal once thought something similar,” Sephiroth warned softly. “They once loved this life.”_

_“I'm not Genesis and Angeal,” Cloud replied, his gaze softening as he looked at his lover. “I'm never going to leave you behind.”  
_

–

 

“Seph!” a familiar voice at the door called. “I'm coming in, so don't stab me, okay?”

Sephiroth stayed by Cloud's side, watching his smaller lover breathe heavily and shake on the bed. His mind would not stop repeating the words 'I love him.' It did him no good—it did no one any good—and yet it would not go away.

The door opened. He heard Tseng and Zack exchanging words briefly before the door closed behind him.

“Why is there a herd of turks waiting outside?” Zack called as he sauntered inside, his boots heavy on the floor. “And where are you?”

“Bedroom,” was Sephiroth's only reply. He could not spare the energy to think of the turks who had knocked every half hour for the past four hours.

“The whole building is in a frenzy,” Zack commented as he wandered back towards Sephiroth's room. “Even Kunsel doesn't know what's going on. Do you have any—Oh shit.”

Sephiroth didn't have to look up to know Zack was in the doorway, looking at the small form sheltered in the bed. If he could tell that Cloud was broken, he could only imagine how bad it looked to Zachary, who actually had some skill in reading the emotions of others. He said nothing, staying still, letting his subordinate and friend get his footing. Zack approached slowly, and Sephiroth did not argue. He waited for the next question. He had a task for his friend, but a part of him hoped that Zack's presence and affection would have some positive effect on his poor Cloud.

“Cloud?” Zack whispered as he stepped up to Sephiroth's side, reaching out towards the shaking blond on the bed.

Cloud let out a shout as he was touched, whirling and striking without a moment's pause. Zack yelped, more in alarm than pain, and backed off, one hand pressed to his suddenly bloody nose.

Sephiroth caught Cloud around the middle, holding the struggling trooper back. Cloud's fingers dug into his arms as he thrashed against him, intent on destroying this new perceived threat to his safety.

“Easy, Cloud,” Sephiroth whispered, his voice low. “Easy. It's just Zack.”

Cloud stopped struggling, his eyes clearing just a little as he blinked. For just a moment recognition brightened the young man's gaze. Then Cloud turned away slowly, slumping back onto the bed and curling in on himself. Zack looked to Sephiroth with wide, worried eyes, wiping the blood out from under his already healed nose.

“What happened?”

“It's not for me to say,” Sephiroth murmured. “Something terrible. He is hurt, but he does not wish to leave the apartment to seek medical attention, or to allow me to do so.”

“Got it,” Zack murmured, nodding firmly. “What do you need?”

“I don't want it,” Cloud whispered into his pillow.

Sephiroth just lifted a hand to card it lightly through Cloud's hair. 

“Come on, Spike,” Zack encouraged softly. “No shame in being looked after while you're hurt.”

“I'm supposed to be dead,” the cadet choked out, sounding like the words hurt him to say.

“A cure,” Sephiroth said after a moment, into the stunned, horrible silence that followed Cloud's painful declaration. “Or a potion. Anything. He is still injured, and I do not have the equipment to help him.”

“I'll bring it,” Zack whispered instantly in reply. “Just stay here, okay? I'll be right back.”

“I don't want it,” Cloud sobbed again, turning away from them both, balling up under the covers.

“Hurry,” Sephiroth urged softly.

Zack was gone between one breath and the next, slipping swiftly out the door. Sephiroth only belatedly realized that he had not actually looked at his friend while he was in the room. He had eyes only for Cloud. The blond was letting out shaking sounds like sobs. It was a terrible noise.

“Cloud,” Sephiroth said softly.

“Don't,” Cloud sobbed. “Don't talk.”

Sephiroth took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. He slowly rested a hand in his lover's hair, only to be shaken off quickly.

“Or touch me,” Cloud added brokenly.

Sephiroth sat still for a long moment, his hand still hovering over his lover's hair, caught between affection and the cold broken shade of his General's mask, which threatened to take him over at any moment.

“I'll return in a moment,” he said at last, as the series of three knocks sounded at the door once more. “I... Need the bathroom.”

Cloud did not respond, but just lay still, crying quietly into his hands.

Sephiroth stepped away from the bed and into the bathroom. He did need it. He had not left Cloud's side in hours. He splashed water in his face after, wiping it off slowly. His heart was beating at breakneck pace with Cloud out of his line of sight. Now that he was not actively looking at him, he could think of nothing but the look on his lover's skin, and the terror in his eyes.

“Pull yourself together,” he whispered to his reflection. “He needs you.”

'He's leaving me,' a voice inside him cried out in opposition to the fierce reminder. 'He promised he would stay.'

When Sephiroth walked back into the bedroom, cloud was asleep once more, his cheeks covered in new tear stains.

 

–

_  
“I can't wait till I can start going on missions with you,” Cloud sighed._

_“I'll be your general out on the field,” Sephiroth warned, relaxed on the couch as Cloud brushed his long hair for him. “We will not behave as lovers.”_

_“I know that,” Cloud replied, tugging on Sephiroth's hair in reprimand and giving him a half-smile. “I just want to be able to go with you. To make sure you stay safe.”_

_“You want to protect me?” Sephiroth asked in amused alarm._

_“Don't laugh,” Cloud ordered._

_“I would never,” Sephiroth replied swiftly, choking back the urge to do just that. “Thank you. I'm flattered.”_

_“You're worth protecting,” Cloud muttered to himself, ducking his chin._

__  
–

 

Zack returned with the cure and news. Sephiroth took the cure from him to cast it on the sleeping Cloud. He nearly retched at the vicarious feeling of his love's wounds as he knitted torn muscles and broken teeth back into place.

_'Do you hear that sound?” Hojo asked mildly. “That's his teeth grinding together. If I do my job right, he'll break them before he dies.'_

'Shut up,' he silently urged the memory of his “Father's” voice.

“Tseng says he doesn't know how long it will be before the president issues an order.” Zack said softly, the words breaking Sephiroth's dangerous train of thought. The first was watching Cloud from the doorway with a worried frown. “Apparently he already knows. I don't know what exactly he knows, but I'm guessing you do.”

“I do,” Sephiroth rasped, hoping that the sickness he felt right to the very core of him did not show on his face.

“Seph?” Zack asked softly. “Are you okay?”

Sephiroth shook his head silently and left Cloud's room. Zack followed behind him after a moment. Sephiroth stopped in the living room, turning to speak to the young man.

“I may have to leave very quickly,” Sephiroth said softly and urgently. “If I do, I want you to know that it is coming. And that I am taking Cloud with me.”

“Seph?” Zack whispered. “Are you going after Genesis?”

“No,” Sephiroth replied, shaking his head slowly. “Whatever was between us—friendship or enmity—it is not important now. I have done something that may put me in great danger. And Cloud has been...”

“Hurt,” Zack supplied after a moment. “I understand. Can't I come with you too?”

“No,” Sephiroth rumbled, shaking his head slowly. “No, Zack, stay. You are a Soldier. You are the greatest Soldier in our number now, aside from myself. They will need you.”

“I don't want to work for a company that would hunt you,” Zack replied fiercely, catching his volume and flinching, glancing back towards Cloud's room.

“You don't even know what I've done,” Sephiroth sighed.

“I know that they'll make me hunt you down,” Zack said quietly. “And I know that I can't do that again.”

Sephiroth gazed at his friend's bright blue eyes, and reached out very slowly. Zack held still, letting Sephiroth's hand drop slowly onto his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” Sephiroth whispered. “I always seem to leave you with the dirty work.”

“Let me try to smooth things over?” Zack pleaded softly. “Before you run? You know I'm good and people, and they call me a hero now. Maybe they'll listen.”

“Try,” Sephiroth said after a long moment. “But if it does not work, know that I do not leave to hurt you.”

“I know that, Seph,” Zack said softly. “I'll get back to you, okay? Keep yourself and Cloud safe. I'll figure all this out.”

“Tell Tseng to catch you up,” Sephiroth said finally. “He'll know all that's happened by now.”

“Hey,” Zack said after a moment, reaching up to catch Sephiroth's hand as the General withdrew his touch. “I can tell you're hurting, Seph. Take care of yourself. I mean it. I know Cloud's hurt, but you are too.”

“If you want to smooth things over, I would hurry,” Sephiroth said slowly, turning away from Zack in a silent dismissal.

“Alright,” his First said after a moment. “I'll be back soon.”

 

–

 

_“I killed him,” Zack whispered, standing in front of Sephiroth's desk, stock still and looking more dead than Sephiroth thought he had ever seen a living man look._

_“Zachary--”_

_“I killed Angeal, Sephiroth,” the young First-Class whispered, the Buster sword looking strange and out of place behind his young shoulders. “How am I supposed to live with that?”_

_Sephiroth did not have an answer for him, and eventually Zack got tired of waiting and left the room. The very next time Sephiroth saw him, the young man was laughing easily with younger recruits, patting them on their shoulders in friendly camaraderie. The sunny First had smiled and waved at him as though nothing had changed. It was so much sadder than the deadened blank look had been. And still, Sephiroth had never known what to say, so they had never spoken of it again._

__  
–

Sephiroth stayed still a moment. The roaring in his ears was back. A rush of blood and emotion that sometimes rose up, deadening even his heightened senses to the world around him. He lifted a hand slowly, looking down at the blood stains that still pinked his otherwise corpse-pale skin. Had he really dragged that hand out of the manacles holding it only a day ago? It did not seem real. It did not seem possible. He wondered how much of the blood on his palms was his and how much of it was Cloud's.

At the thought of his lover's blood, something cut through the feeling of being stuffed with cotton. The roaring in his ears cut out. He did smell blood. It was not just a memory. He moved in a blur, dashing back to the room where he had left Cloud.  He took in the scene in less than a second, and before he could even register what he was seeing he had grabbed the knife away from Cloud's arm, dragging it out of his hands.

Cloud jerked his head up, tears streaking down his eyes, his wrist bleeding sluggishly from the thin gash that he had started to inscribe up his forearm. Sephiroth stared back, saying nothing, his breath shuddering in his lungs. His hand clenched around the knife, letting the blade slice his fingers as he stared down at the sobbing young man in the corner of his bedroom and the fresh blood on his skin.

“Give it back,” Cloud demanded through his tears, his shaking bloody hand reaching for the knife.

Sephiroth shook his head silently, staring at the blood dripping sluggishly from Cloud's arm. If he'd waited any longer to come back, Cloud would have...

“I'm not supposed to be alive,” the blond screamed at him, still reaching for the blade, though he did not stand to approach Sephiroth. “Give me back the knife!”

“No, Cloud,” Sephiroth said softly, feeling his body all but vibrating with the want to fix what was wrong with his love.

“Why did you do this to me?” Cloud sobbed, collapsing into himself when his demand was not met. “Why did you have to bring me back!?”

Sephiroth felt something shifting inside him like sickness. He turned and left the room, sliding the kitchen knife into the sink to have the blood cleaned off it later. He glanced around his empty kitchen, suddenly lost in his own familiar home.

 

–  
 __

_“You cooked?” Cloud asked, sounding alarmed._

_“You did not think I was capable?” Sephiroth asked, arching an eyebrow._

_“It's not that,” the cadet stuttered, blushing just a little, hiding the fact behind his standard-issue high-necked scarf. “You can do anything. I just never...” He trailed off, before lifting his head with a stubborn set to his jaw, as though forcing himself to speak. “I never thought you'd cook for me.”_

__  
–

 

'He isn't coming back,' a voice whispered in the back of Sephiroth's head.

The thought rang with a truth that was so absolute that it brooked no argument. Sephiroth could hardly comprehend the certainty that filled him as he thought the words. It made him weak in the knees as no injury ever could. He braced himself against his kitchen counter, shaking in the backlash of the thought. He'd saved his blond lover—he'd given him a chance to live. Hadn't he? Or was this jus ta new torture for Cloud—one of his own making rather than Hojo's?

'He wants to die,' the voice intruded again. 'You can grant him that wish.'

“He's sick,” Sephiroth rasped to himself in argument with the thought. “He will recover given time and stability.”

'Recover for what,' his thoughts continued bitterly as he moved to look out the window at the ugly city that surrounded him. 'For a world where even best friends abandon each other? Where the 'greater good' that is Shinra allows Scientists to torture whoever they please? Where the only things you can rely on are war and suffering?'

“Stop,” Sephiroth snapped, though he knew it was his own mind questioning.

'How many times have you wished death would claim you after one of his experiments? How much better it would have been to simply die rather than facing this world. And yet you would deny Cloud that freedom. Cloud, who you claim to love.'

“What else can I do?” Sephiroth whispered, looking down at his hands.

'Kill him,' his mental voice replied, seeming so strong he almost thought he had heard it aloud.

“I can't,” He rasped. “I could never. Not even to save him.”

'If you will not kill him,' the mental voice replied after a long moment, 'then end this ugly world that torments him.'

“Enough,” Sephiroth rasped, forcing the thoughts away and turning from his window.

He walked swiftly back to Cloud's room, trying to ignore the feeling of wrongness that seemed to have seeped into his bones, and the twisting nausea that had not left him since he heard his own mental voice suggesting that he end Cloud's life. He stepped slowly into the room, looking over to see cloud in the corner, trembling and sobbing, curled in on himself, hiding his face.

'Broken,' the voice whispered in Sephiroth's head.

 

–

_  
“He's tough, Seph,” Zack said with a sigh. “He just doesn't see it in himself yet, that's all. If I didn't think he could make it in Soldier, I never would have set the two of you up.”_

_“Set us up?” Sephiroth asked, raising an eyebrow._

_“That's not the point,” Zack said with a wave of his hand. “The point is that he loves you enough to forget what he thinks of himself. That's amazing Seph. It really is. I just want to make sure you know he's not as strong as he seems sometimes. So be careful with him, okay? He's tough, but he gets hurt easily. And once he's hurt, he's stubborn enough that it's hard to help him out.”_

__  
-

 

Sephiroth impatiently shoved aside the memory, staring at the crying man he loved. His mind was in turmoil, but he did not let it show on his face. He stayed as impassive and blank as he had while slaughtering thousands in Wutai. It was the same blankness he'd hidden behind when first Genesis and then Angeal abandoned him.

Perhaps, he thought to himself with a swell of bitterness, the voice in his mind was right. A world where Cloud did not want to exist was just as unworthy as one where he did not exist at all. He could tear it all down—he KNEW he could. There was a certainty deep in his bones that told him he could make the world burn. He could feel the fire spell he had mastered as a child boiling under his skin, waiting to be released.

'You promised,' a low voice whispered in his ear, dark with warning. 

It was the same voice that had spoken in his ear in the labs. He'd almost forgotten. Sephiroth shrugged it off, turning away from Cloud as he considered.

“Sephiroth?” Cloud's voice barely caught on the name, coming out in a whisper.

He glanced back, watching the young man raise a shaking hand towards him without opening his blue eyes. He knew his presence was being requested. He stood across the room and watched, unable to bring himself to bridge that gap. He could not touch the man.

He could feel the fire inside himself. He looked out at the world and he felt his desire to set it ablaze grow. He would take Cloud with him.

'No,' the woman's deep voice warned, low with danger.

'Burn it,' his own internal voice argued. 'Burn it and sail the cosmos on its shell.'

Sephiroth shook his head, taking a deep breath. He felt wrong. Sick. Burning. He was on fire from within. Nothing would stop the heat—the anger. Nothing but destruction. It was the same heat that had burned inside him as he won wars. It had nothing to do with friendship and love, and everything to do with cathartic destruction—with the dismantling and destruction of everything that did not understand his pain. He lifted his hand slowly towards the window. He could practically already feel the heat of the flames that would engulf Midgar. Maybe, he thought as a slow, twisted laugh rose out of him, people would finally stop calling him 'cold.'

“Sephiroth?” Cloud cried, with more urgency this time. 

Sephiroth still did not look at him. He called upon the power of his spell, feeling it leap eagerly to his command, building in power with his will, waiting to be released.

'I gave you your wish!' the dark voice of the woman Sephiroth knew must be the world's Goddess howled. It was so loud that Sephiroth dropped his spell abruptly and raised his hands to cover his ears, his head pounding from the screaming.

“Seph,” Cloud called again, shifting to stand shakily, bracing himself against the dresser, his hand still outstretched.

“I gave him back to you!” The voice cried, louder than ever.

Sephiroth could not restrain the choked scream that escaped him. Surely his eardrums would rupture from the noise.

“Betrayer—fire-starter!” She howled. “I shall play none of your games! You shall obey me, or _I shall take him back!_ ”

Cloud's eyes rolled back, shining white. He convulsed where he was standing, just once, and then fell. Sephiroth felt his heart stop in his chest. All thoughts fled his mind. The fire vanished, as though quenched in ice water. His hands started shaking. Belatedly, he remembered to breathe.

“Cloud,” he rasped, receiving no answer.

He stepped closer to his lover's body, then dropped swiftly at his side, pressing a hand to Cloud's pulse. The blond's heartbeat thundered reassuringly under his fingers. Sephiroth felt a sob wring it's way out of him as relief and terror mixed in an almost painful jumble of emotion.

'He is mine,' the dark voice of the goddess whispered in his ear. 'And therefore so are you. Turn on me again, and I will take him back, Calamity's Child.'

“Cloud,” Sephiroth whispered again, curling slowly over his lover's body.

He felt aged. Trapped. He had escaped one prison to enter another. Hojo could no longer touch him or his lover. But now... Now there was an even more pervasive presence watching him, waiting for him to slip. He did not understand what was happening. His mind simply could not process it. He dropped his head onto Cloud's chest, breathing deeply against his bare skin, his eyes closed tightly. The smell of Cloud's blood was thick in the air, his wrist still dripping onto the carpet sluggishly, though it was starting to scab over.

The room was silent. Three knocks sounded, and were ignored. When Sephiroth's cellphone started to go off, he simply crushed it into powder in his pocket. He lay against the chest of the man he loved, and struggled against his own mind, and the soft, insidious voice that still whispered for him to burn.

 

–

_  
“He's just jealous,” Angeal sighed, defending Genesis's fury once again._

_“For what?” Sephiroth asked dryly._

_“You really don't know?” Angeal replied, giving Sephiroth a look that was more sad than confused. “You need to wake up, Sephiroth. Before you drive everyone away.”_

_“I haven't driven you away.” Sephiroth replied, arching an eyebrow._

_“Wherever Genesis goes,” Angeal said softly after a long moment, “I eventually follow.”_

_–_

_“You never change,” Lazard sighed as he switched the roster to show Zack as the one with a mission to follow Genesis and Angeal._

_“How so?” Sephiroth asked, tilting his head slowly._

_“Nothing,” Lazard replied. “I changed your mission. I'll tell Zack tonight.”_

_–_

_“Ow,” Cloud muttered, rubbing his lower back._

_“Sorry,” Sephiroth rumbled against his neck._

_“You're always too rough,” Cloud sighed. “I guess you can't help that.”_

_“I can change,” Sephiroth replied without thought._

_He didn't realize how terrifying the prospect that those words raised until they were already out of his mouth. He would not take them back. He would change. For Cloud. The smile that touched his lover's lips in response made him certain it was the right decision._

_–  
_

“For you,” Sephiroth whispered against Cloud's chest, closing his eyes tightly. “For you. Only for you.”

“Seph?” Cloud rasped, his voice distant and tired.

“I can change,” Sephiroth choked out against his lover's chest, speaking more to the Goddess than to the man he loved. “I will change for you.”

“I like how you are,” the cadet replied blearily, almost as though he were on auto pilot.

“I know,” Sephiroth whispered in response, pulling away from Cloud's chest slowly, hovering over him, stroking his fingers lightly over the sleepy man's cheek. “That is why I will.”

“Mmm,” Cloud hummed. 

He blinked bleary eyes at Sephiroth. The General dreaded seeing the fear re-enter those eyes, as he knew it would when Cloud's mind caught up to reality, and to what had become of him the night before. He could not handle seeing the change. He hid his face against Cloud's chest, and let his lover stroke shaking fingers through his silver hair, leaving streaks of gummy blood through his silver hair.

The sound at the door was not a knock. It was a hit. They were coming. Sephiroth straightened slowly, lifting his gaze towards the door before looking down to Cloud.

“They're coming,” he whispered to his lover, though he knew Cloud would not understand.

The blond blinked bright blue eyes up at him, still fuzzy after the goddess's yank. He dragged Sephiroth back down by his hair to catch him in a light kiss, sighing softly against his lips.

The people outside crashed into the door again.

'What will you do?' the Goddess whispered in his ear.

Sephiroth felt fire under his skin, and pushed it away. He rose slowly, lifting Cloud in his arms. The metal of the door creaked and groaned under the next impact. Sephiroth turned to the window and opened it slowly, stepping onto the ledge.

“Seph?” Cloud whispered in his arms.

“We're running, Cloud,” Sephiroth whispered to him. “Hold on tight.”

“Don't let him touch me again,” Cloud whispered in Sephiroth's arms, curling tight against him, his memory obviously returning by the moment.

“I will not,” Sephiroth said softly. “None of them will ever touch you again.”

He heard the door to his apartment break, and allowed himself no further time to consider. The wing spread from his shoulder blade, and he leaped. For a moment, Cloud's hands tightened around him. Then they relaxed again.

“I thought you were killing us both.” The cadet whispered after a moment over the rushing of the air around them as Sephiroth powered up into the sky, flying quick and fast.

“No,” Sephiroth replied with a slow shake of his head. “I am taking you somewhere safe.”

“I want to die,” Cloud informed him, as though it were the most day-to-day thing he could think of to say.

“I love you,” Sephiroth replied, not turning his gaze away from the skyline he was flying towards.

There was silence for a long while. Then Cloud turned his face into Sephiroth's coat, and his fingers tightened on his shoulders. Sephiroth held him tighter in return.

“I love you too,” Cloud whispered after a long moment, drawing in a shaking breath after the words.

“Then live,” Sephiroth replied. “With me. Let me make it better.”

“Alright,” Cloud replied, tangling one hand in Sephiroth's hair, lifting wide, luminous eyes to gaze at him. “For your sake.”

Sephiroth glanced down, and was caught in the crystalline gaze. A soft kiss brushed across Cloud's lips was all he allowed himself. He had a long way to fly, and he could already hear helicopters behind them.

“Thank you,” he whispered, holding his shaking lover tightly in his arms as he fled the only life he'd ever known in the hopes of finding a life where his Cloud could stand existing.

They flew for miles. Cloud never asked where they were going. Sephiroth never spoke. His wing beat against the air in steady rhythm, sending them ever further from Shinra. When Cloud fell asleep in his arms, Sephiroth allowed himself to consider pausing for the night, but quickly changed his mind. He could still see. He could fly a little further.

He landed on a mountain top much later. It was not a place he was unfamiliar with. It was the site of the one dream he'd ever allowed himself—the dream he'd harbored only after he met Cloud. He owned the cabin on this mountain top. He'd bought it after hearing Cloud complain about his lack of vacations. He had hoped to christen it joyously with his lover the very first chance the two of them got to get away from their jobs. Instead he broke down his own door and carried his lover up to the unmade bed, curling up with him tightly.

Only then did he allow himself to quietly mourn the loss of the life he had only begun to love. He only hoped that there was enough left of the man he loved in his poor, broken Cloud to make their escape and the pain he knew life would bring his lover worth it. He closed his eyes lightly, and quietly reminded himself that Cloud was alive. He was alive.

“You're alive,” Sephiroth whispered to himself, burying his face in Cloud's hair as his wing curled slowly over the young man, sheltering him from the chill around them.

He only hoped that Cloud would not hate him forever for that fact.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Specific Warnings:** Eating Disorders, PTSD, Panic Attacks, and other potentially triggering content! Please protect yourself!

It was a struggle to keep anything in Cloud's stomach for the first three days after the event. He would eat, albeit quietly, but with every recurrence of the memories he could not help the sickness that overtook him. The memory was too fresh and too gut-wrenching. Sephiroth was beginning to fear that he would die no matter his efforts. He was pale all the time. He shook almost constantly. And as if that wasn't enough, the damage from one of the treatments had left him with seizures which struck him at least once a day, leaving him vacant and empty for minutes at a time. Sephiroth had to keep a constant eye on him when he was on his feet. The first seizure had caught them both off guard, and Cloud had nearly broken his skull falling off the balcony of their little house.

It was a deeper hell than any Sephiroth had experienced so far in his life.

He could not sleep. He wandered the house any moment Cloud was resting—which was often. He walked from door to door and window to window. He checked the locks, then double and triple checked them. He made endless pots of tea, and poured them out again when Cloud did not awaken while they were still hot. He brewed a fresh pot every half hour, waiting for the time his lover would wake up and accept the hydration and what comfort it could offer.

When Cloud was awake, he did not want to be touched. He would allow Sephiroth to catch him if one of his seizures caught him on his feet, but if the man was still touching him when he woke up, he lost himself to fear. Likewise if Sephiroth attempted to comfort him during one of the almost-constant flashbacks that plagued him whenever he was awake, or tried to dispel the nightmares that tortured him while he slept.

It was enough that as much as Sephiroth loved Cloud, it was almost torturous for them to be in the same room together. If not for the rare moments when Cloud lifted his hands and requested Sephiroth's touch, the ex-General would have lost his mind.

On the fourth day, Sephiroth realized what, exactly he had done. The breakdown had been held off by endless rounds checking the house and an unending exhaustion and worry from watching Cloud fall apart. That had not stopped it from appearing in its own time. He stopped dead in the kitchen, his eyes fixed on the soup he'd only just started.

He had basically just made a commitment to stay with the young man hiding in the bedroom the rest of their lives. A man he had only realized he loved four days ago when he was tortured to death in front of his eyes. And for this man, he had run from everything he'd ever known. But of course he had, because he'd watched his beautiful, wonderful lover die, over and over. Over and over. Over and-

He was in the bathroom with the door closed before he made the conscious decision to do so. White walls, tile floors—It was the closest he could come to the comforting familiarity of the pure-white labs that he had grown up in. He needed that familiarity. He needed someone to tell him what to do. But he couldn't have that. Bossy, wonderful Genesis was gone. Hojo was dead. Lazard was left far behind, as was the president. There was no one to tell him what he ought to do—where he was needed—what came next.

He couldn't breathe. He stripped his shirt off, feeling suffocated, but it didn't help.

'Panic attack,' whispered the logical part of him. It was quickly overwhelmed and drowned out by the panic of a body suddenly convinced it was dying.

His skin felt like it was boiling from within as the mako responded to the rush of helpless adrenaline. He could do nothing but choke in reedy gasps of air and cling to his own head, as though he could keep himself together through sheer force.

–

_"Pathetic," Hojo sneered, watching the panic attack he had intentionally induced run its course. "Straighten up, boy."_

–

"I can't," Sephiroth choked out with what breath he could muster. "I can't."

The door opened. Sephiroth pushed further back into the corner of the wall and bath tub, where he was huddled. If Hojo himself was coming, he was in a world of trouble.

'Stand up,' he urged his panicking, cowering body. 'Stand up. Don't let him think he's won.'

He couldn't stand, and that fact only increased his already racing heartbeat—the terror that made him sick to his stomach and sore all over. He squeezed brightly glowing eyes shut only to be assaulted with images of Cloud's body, bowed in pain, while he sat helpless.

"Sephiroth?" Cloud's voice was soft, but it cut through the panic.

Sephiroth's eyes snapped open. That voice was real. Realer than the memories.

"What's wrong?" Cloud asked, hovering in the doorway. He looked sick. Green and thin—exhausted—terrible.

– __

_"You are the one who asked for this," the scientist said mildly, sticking the electrodes to Cloud's chest and stomach._

_"Seph," Cloud choked, tears streaming from his blank eyes as he sought out Sephiroth's gaze. He couldn't focus anymore. Sephiroth could see it in the look on his face._  
  
–

'Talk to him,' he silently urged himself. 'Say something. Explain!'

He said nothing. He struggled to breathe. Struggled to keep from screaming. He could not scream. He could never scream. It was against the rules. It was absolutely forbidden. Except he wasn't here. He was dead. He couldn't touch him ever again. He was dead—broken—empty-eyed—never going to smile at his pain ever again. Never again.

"Seph," soft hands reached down. When had Cloud gotten so close? "Are you alright?"

"Don't," Sephiroth barked, jerking back. The tile wall behind him cracked with the force of his movement. It barely registered as uncomfortable. "Don't touch me. Don't ever—Just don't!"

'He doesn't understand,' he cried out in his mind, watching the shock on Cloud's face. 'He doesn't understand what you're saying. Explain! Explain what Hojo was to you—what Hojo DID to you. Make him understand!'

He just bowed his head, clamping his hands over his ears. He couldn't stand his own internal voice, telling him what he should and should not do.

"I'm... I'm sorry," Cloud whispered in a shaking voice. "I'm sorry."

Sephiroth dragged in another shaking breath. He shuddered. He twitched. He silently cursed himself for hurting his lover, and yet could say nothing to take it back. He could barely get the breath to keep fueling his racing heart. Much less to speak clearly.

Cloud turned away. Sephiroth could only see him out of his peripheral vision. He watched him move towards the door, and wanted to call out to him—wanted to do anything to stop him. He just stayed curled in his corner. He never knew what to do. What to say. And now he must have hurt Cloud worse—more deeply—than ever before. Refusing his touch. Turning him away. Cloud was hurt so much worse. Of course he would want to leave.

He jerked his head up to look when the door closed, and froze at the sight of Cloud standing there, still on the same side of the door as him. The young blond walked over slowly, sinking down to sit in front of Sephiroth, keeping a space nearly three feet between them.

"I'm being stupid, aren't I?" He whispered, his voice still trembling, and still holding the cracking damaged quality that he'd carried since Hojo had made him scream for so many hours. "Here I am wallowing in how hurt I am, and I never even thought..."

Sephiroth shook his head silently, closing his eyes again and curling in on himself.

"Quiet," he rasped, ducking his head into his own knees. "Please."

"I'll be here when you're ready to talk," Cloud replied, curling up himself and leaning into the opposite corner of wall and bathtub, even though it jammed him down under the sink at an awkward angle.

They sat there a long while. Even though Sephiroth knew he should pull himself together quickly, it was easier said than done. His panic attacks were not frequent by any stretch of the imagination, but they were powerful when they finally struck. He sat there, shaking and breathing heavily, and across from him Cloud waited. His blue eyes wandered off sometimes, and Sephiroth could see him losing and regaining focus, struggling to keep his mind in the here and now. Once they rolled back for a moment, and Sephiroth thought he would be forced to watch Cloud crack his head on the tub as a seizure overtook him, but it was short-lived and non-eventful. By the time Sephiroth began to catch his breath, he knew it must have been hours. His internal clock said three.

"You're breathing again," Cloud said softly. "That's a start."

"You didn't have to stay," Sephiroth replied roughly.

"Yeah," Cloud said. "I did."

He closed the gap between them slowly and stiffly. He was swathed in one of Sephiroth's shirts, the long sleeves and too-big fabric made him seem even smaller. He held out his hands and waited, patiently. Sephiroth stared at his palms a long moment. They were shaking too, just like his were. He shifted slowly and took Cloud's hands in his own, if for no other reason than to support them.

"I love you," Cloud said softly.

"I'm so sorry," Sephiroth whispered in reply. "For everything."

"You're supposed to say 'I love you too,' Seph." It was the closest to a joke the blonde had come in days. His lips quirked into a stressed, strained half-smile.

Sephiroth kissed him softly in return for the words. He was surprised when Cloud's hands shifted away from his to stroke over the back of his head, drawing him down to lean against his shoulder. He didn't fight against the touch though. He rested his head lightly on Cloud's body, and let his lover stroke his fingers through his hair. He needed it, even if he could never say so. He needed to feel wanted—loved.

"You saved my life," Cloud whispered, his voice cracking even as he spoke.

"You didn't want me to." Sephiroth replied, startled to find his voice choked, as though by tears—though of course that was impossible. Hojo had taken his ability to cry from him years ago.

"I was sick," the blond replied, still brushing Sephiroth's hair. "I'm still sick. I can't even eat. I can barely close my eyes without seeing him. I don't know how to function like this. So... I have a question for you."

"I'll try to answer."

"How the hell did you survive?" Cloud's voice shook as he asked the question. "Zack told me He raised you. I thought he might have been exaggerating or pulling my leg, but the things he said to you in there..."

"Things?"

"He said... That you usually stop fighting." Cloud broke off. Sephiroth heard him gasp in a breath and let it out slowly, fighting back nausea and the flashback that had to accompany his words. "By the second hour."

Sephiroth shuddered in his lover's arms, and was strangely comforted to feel Cloud's grip tighten in return. Hojo had said that. He'd said it while Cloud suffered from injections made specifically to cause pain so intense it was fatal in high doses.

"You remember something so trivial?"

"You're never trivial to me," Cloud shook his head as he spoke, his hands tightening in Sephiroth's hair. "Nothing about you. Seph, did he hurt you like he hurt me?"

"Never like that," Sephiroth rasped, shifting out of Cloud's hold to sit up. He met his lover's gaze with urgency, intent on Cloud understanding that his heart was in no way matched. "Nothing like that."

"I know it couldn't have been exactly the same," Cloud said softly, his lower lip trembling and his eyes filled with tears. "You're still alive. But Seph, if he did these things to you, I—I need to know. I want to know."

"Not yet," Sephiroth whispered. "Later. Soon. You need to eat."

"Would you worry about yourself for five seconds?" Cloud said in frustration.

"Not until you're well," the man said firmly. "I won't give you any more horrors until we can conquer yours."

"It might take a while," Cloud whispered, his brows twisting.

"I can wait," Sephiroth promised. "You're talking to me again. You're letting me touch you. I can wait."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As usual, this story comes with lots of trigger warnings attached. In this chapter, suicide is still heavily discussed. Please look after yourselves first and foremost! (And just to make sure all you readers know, if you are EVER in trouble or feeling hopeless and could use someone to talk to, I'm always happy to talk. *hugs*)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own FFVII or any of its derivative works. Please support the official games and releases!

_The two MPs wouldn't tell him why they'd pulled him out of class. Cloud had a sinking feeling that he knew. He'd worried about this. Some higher up must have finally started wondering about him and Sephiroth. He had no doubt that he was being marched downstairs to be given a dishonorable discharge. He put on his bravest front as he walked. He was a weak person, but he had promised himself that he would keep Sephiroth from knowing that as long as he could._

_It wasn't until they were in an elevator heading down that one of the MPs jammed a mag rod into his side and discharged it._

_Agony curled through him like a series of lighting strikes. His vision went white, and he felt it as though he were very far away when he dropped limply in the holds of the two men. He couldn't get a finger on what had changed. This couldn't possibly be normal operational procedure, could it?_

_He was vaguely aware that they were going very far down. His consciousness ebbed. The next thing he knew, there was cold metal at his back—tight bonds—unending pain—and through everything a voice that was not his howling in agony._

__–

Cloud jerked awake, and managed to stifle the scream that was in his throat. Another nightmare. Another memory. They were indiscernible these days.

He dragged himself out of bed, moving to the bathroom as quietly as he could before letting the memories run their ravaging course. He always threw up after the nightmares. He couldn't help it. He needed the taste of remembered blood out of his mouth. He needed to feel something other than screams in his throat.

He just wished that he could eat enough to keep the cycle from making him sicker.

As always happened, Sephiroth appeared in the doorway almost the moment Cloud was done, ready and waiting with a cool washcloth to drape over the back of his neck and gentle hands to rest lightly on his shoulders as he rested against the toilet.

It was embarrassing. But not as embarrassing as the humiliation he'd already lived through in front of his lover thanks to Hojo. The shame of what had been done to him—of his own helplessness and his body's reactions—it was crippling. Cloud tried his best not to let it show. Sephiroth was already too worried. Worried to the point of neglecting himself, which was not and never had been what Cloud wanted.

He desperately wished he could be strong for the man he loved.

"More memories?" Sephiroth whispered softly.

"Maybe it's just food poisoning this time," Cloud said dryly, trying to joke.

Sephiroth did not laugh. He had not smiled in days—weeks, Cloud supposed. He was losing track of time.

"I'm sorry," He rasped.

"For what?" Sephiroth's lips touched the back of his neck lightly in a gentle kiss.

Cloud closed his eyes at the touch, taking a deep breath. It was hard not to panic sometimes, but he could not let himself push Sephiroth away. He'd promised to try, and more than that he'd promised himself that he wouldn't hurt the man who loved him any more than he had to.

It was the only reason he hadn't killed himself yet.

The mark on his wrist he'd made before Sephiroth stopped him had healed over days ago, but he still found himself staring at it often. He had felt death. He had felt the lifestream's gentle, loving presence. He longed for it. He had heard a deep, distant call that could only have been his father's voice. He'd sounded happy to see him.

And being jerked back to life away from the warmth over and over had been worse than any physical pain he had experienced. Which was not at all to say that the physical pain had been anything less than terrible.

He turned back to the toilet again as his stomach rebelled against his line of thinking, and closed his eyes, trying to force his mind off the subject. He was shaking under Sephiroth's gentle hands. He felt his lover's fingers brush over his ribs and hesitate there. He knew he was losing weight. He couldn't help it. He tried. He really, really tried. But even when he was attempting to convince himself he didn't want to die, his body still wasn't sure why it was alive in the first place. It seemed committed to killing him again, whether he wanted it or not.

"Will you drink some tea?" Sephiroth asked when the latest round of Cloud's sickness died down.

"I'll give it a shot," Cloud rasped, pressing his cheek against the cool porcelain. "I like holding the mug, at least."

"I'll be back," Sephiroth promised, pulling away quietly.

Cloud let the tears fall once he heard the man leave the room. His internal mantra of 'I want to die' had returned with a vengeance. He didn't dare tell Sephiroth. Not since seeing the panic attacks that his lover experienced. He couldn't stomach adding to the stress he knew Sephiroth was under, even though he knew Sephiroth would be furious and hurt if he was to learn that Cloud had withheld the suicidal thoughts from him.

It was strange. He didn't really want to die. He knew it would leave Sephiroth in hell—destroy Zack, if his friend ever caught up to them to find out. But at the same time, he couldn't help but think how much better it would be. He could be one with everything. He could forget ever having to be Cloud Strife.

He closed his eyes again, letting the tears fall off his cheeks. He was so very weak. How had he ever even considered it possible for someone as weak as him to become a soldier.

He didn't realize how much time had passed until he heard Sephiroth sit down next to him with a rustle of fabric. He didn't fight when gentle, strong hands shifted him away from the cold ceramic he'd been leaning against and pulled him to lay against his lover's warm chest instead.

"Sorry," Cloud whispered again, knowing Sephiroth would object even as he said it.

"I just wish I could help," Sephiroth replied with a shake of his head. "I wish I could make it better."

"You lived with him," Cloud whispered, pressing his face into the soft shirt Sephiroth was wearing. "How did you get past it?"

Sephiroth did not answer for a long moment. When he finally did, it was with hesitance and a strained quality to his voice.

"I didn't," his lover responded. "You can't get over something that never stopped."

"Even when you were a general?" Cloud asked softly. "Even when we were together?"

"Always," Sephiroth responded softly, brushing his fingers gently over Cloud's head. "Always."

By the time the two of them broke their hold and stood, the tea was long cold. That was alright with Cloud. He rinsed his mouth out and walked back to bed, leaving Sephiroth standing in the hallway, looking lost and tired. He didn't have the strength to save either of them. Not himself, and not the man he loved.

– __

_"I love you," Cloud sighed into Sephiroth's hair._

_"So you keep saying," the general laughed. Cloud could feel his chest vibrate with the words, they were lying so close together._

_"You don't believe me?" Cloud teased, lifting his gaze to the man he had fallen for._

_Sephiroth gifted him with a small smile and shifted enough to press a luxurious kiss to Cloud's already kiss-swollen lips._

_"What do you say we try out the living room next," Sephiroth offered softly. "The kitchen was enjoyable, but I worry the floor may be a little hard for you."_

_"Alright," Cloud agreed easily. "Against the wall like in that alley?"_

_"Whatever you want," Sephiroth purred. Cloud was certain he had not imagined the light in the man's eyes._

_If Sephiroth wanted to change the subject off of love, Cloud wouldn't argue with him. He knew Sephiroth didn't love him in return. He didn't mind, so long as he got to stay._

_–_

How much had changed since then, Cloud thought to himself, watching Sephiroth cook from where he sat exhausted at the island counter in the kitchen of their little lodge. It seemed like years ago that he had been uncertain of Sephiroth's love for him. Now he knew that the man loved him. A part of him hated the general for it. If only Sephiroth hadn't loved him, Cloud could have ended his existence long ago. If Sephiroth hadn't loved him, Hojo might never have touched him in the first place.

"Your shivering again," Sephiroth observed, looking over to Cloud with worried eyes.

"I'm just cold all the time," Cloud whispered.

"We should take you to a doctor," Sephiroth replied just as softly, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. "That is not healthy..."

"Nothing about me is healthy," Cloud muttered, shifting to lay his head on his arms. "I don't want to go to a doctor."

Silence fell. Cloud heard Sephiroth let out a slow breath and turn back to cooking. He knew it was unfair of him to blame the man who loved him for what Hojo had done. It was so far from Sephiroth's fault. But it was so much easier than thinking of what it really was.

His torture had been a by-product. The only reason Hojo had touched him at all was to try and break Sephiroth's spirit. With a sickening twist of his stomach, Cloud knew he was right.

He smelled ginger, and briefly thought that Sephiroth was getting bold with his cooking, before remembering that strong scents were no longer necessarily real.

He felt the first wave of the seizure hit, but the next moment he was drifting, as though unconscious, yanked out of his own body by his damaged brain.

He woke up to find himself cradled in Sephiroth's arms. He must have fallen off the stool. He didn't feel any pain, so he guessed the man must have caught him before he hit the floor. Almost a pity, he thought.

"Are you back?" Sephiroth asked. He sounded strangely calm, though it was more resignation than relaxation.

"I miss Zack," Cloud responded blearily, not fighting the impulse to say the words as he usually did. The seizures always loosened his lips.

"As do I," Sephiroth replied softly, carefully helping Cloud to sit up. "I have the feeling he could help in so many more ways than I."

"It's not that," Cloud sighed. "I just know he's got to be miserable. He's already so torn up."

"I'd have taken him with us if I could," Sephiroth whispered.

Cloud looked at him and saw the same thing in his eyes he saw every day. Guilt. Exhaustion. Sephiroth didn't sleep these days, he knew. Now and then he dropped into exhausted unconsciousness for a moment or two, but never for long. He knew that was his fault too. Sephiroth would not sleep because he never knew if Cloud would hurt himself while he rested. Cloud wasn't sure he wouldn't.

"He'll catch up some day, I guess," Cloud whispered. "If he can."

"He will." Sephiroth said, standing as Cloud did, supporting him.

"Your dinner's going to burn," Cloud warned softly. "Go save it. I'll try to eat something."

A soft kiss on his hair was his answer. The hands holding him withdrew, and he watched Sephiroth walk back to the simple meal he was preparing with a distinct feeling of distance. He wondered whether he would have been half as functional if it had been him watching Sephiroth tortured. He very much doubted it. He'd probably still be hiding in his lover's arms, crying all over him. He was just that weak.

He did eat, a little. It made him feel worse, but it lightened the pain in Sephiroth's eyes. He wasn't sure why that was so very important to him.

– __

_"Hey, buddy," Zack laughed, ruffling Cloud's hair fiercely. "I knew you two would hit it off!"_

_"Why's that?" Cloud muttered, pouting at his best friend. "Does he tend to like annoying blonde cadets? God, I kept saying such stupid things..."_

_"You talked to him," Zack replied, shaking his head. "And you smiled, and let yourself relax enough to say stupid things. Most people don't ever call him anything but sir, even if he invites them. Most people only see a hero or a monster, Cloudy. You've got something special."_

_"No I don't," Cloud muttered. "The only thing special about me is having you for a friend."_

_"I'm not just best friends with anyone, you know," Zack scolded. "You do have something special."_

_"And what's that?"_

_"You see a person when you look at him, Spike," Zack said fondly. "Just like you do with me. Even though we're super-powered and probably both insane. I knew he'd love that about you. And lo and behold, it turns out he loves a lot more about you, if that display out back of the bar was any indication."_

_"You were watching!?" Cloud yelped, pulling away from his friend to stare at him, wide-eyed and flaming red with an instant blush._

_"Not all of it," Zack laughed. "Just until he kissed you. You've got something double special now, Spike. You see people when you look at us, and now you have the hottest boyfriend on the planet."_

_–_

_"I'll fucking kill you!" Sephiroth's voice was snarling. "I will take you apart piece by piece. I will make you beg me for the sweet release of death!"_

_He wasn't even fully conscious. He was dying. He could feel it. The scientist's hands were inside him. Invading places that should never have been open to touch. His breath seized. He had to keep breathing._

_Sephiroth was screaming his name. The death threats had stopped, replaced by just his name, over and over and over. He had to keep breathing for Seph. He had to keep breathing._

_–_

He stayed sick. He got worse. Sephiroth stayed by his side. Kissed him when he allowed it, cooked for him when he would eat, cleaned up after him when his seizures made him sick, and always, always, always whispered that he loved him when he thought that Cloud was asleep.

–

There was no breakthrough moment. No clear ringing truth spoken by the man he loved that brought him around, or momentous event that changed him for the better.

One day, Cloud just woke up like normal, and realized that he did not want to die.

He looked over to the door of the bedroom, where Sephiroth had dozed off sitting up, guarding him. The general looked exhausted. Cloud could remember the last panic attack. Sephiroth rarely let him help anymore. He rarely let him see the panic at all. Two nights ago he hadn't been able to hide it. Cloud hadn't been able to help.

This morning, Cloud looked at the lines of exhaustion under Sephiroth's eyes and the messy fall of his hair, and wanted very much to help him.

He shifted slowly out of bed, keeping his movements careful and quiet. He walked to Sephiroth's side, shocked by how tired his lover must have been. Usually Sephiroth woke up the instant Cloud moved. He sank slowly to sit by his side, and lifted a careful hand to stroke Sephiroth's bangs back out of his face. It was probably a dangerous thing to do—after all, Sephiroth had as many nightmares as he did.

The general just turned into the gentle touch and opened his weary green eyes.

"Cloud." he whispered, his voice dulled with sleep.

"I'm feeling better today, Seph," Cloud whispered. "Will you make breakfast with me?"

The look on Sephiroth's face was one Cloud would never forget in all his days. An emotion more powerful than all the rage and fear he'd seen Sephiroth express while the man was forced to watch him be tortured. The surprise and hope that lit Sephiroth's eyes from within awakened a rush of love from Cloud like nothing he'd felt since Hojo killed him. Then Sephiroth gave a trembling, fragile smile. It was the saddest thing Cloud had ever seen.

He kissed his general's weary face, under each eye, on his brow, and finally on his lips, wanting to reassure him. Each kiss was met with a quiet breath and a gentle shift closer to the contact. When Sephiroth drew him so close he was almost in his lap, Cloud wrapped him in a hug and tangled his hands in the fall of silver hair behind his lover.

"What changed?" Sephiroth asked softly.

"I don't know," Cloud replied shaking his head quietly. "I guess you worried me enough that I had to put it aside."

"I'm sorry." his lover whispered.

"Make me pancakes," Cloud demanded, pressing a light kiss to Sephiroth's neck. "We'll call it even."

Sephiroth stood without releasing him. Even exhausted and weakened from days of inaction and worry, he still carried Cloud as though he weighed nothing at all. Cloud curled up in his arms, and let a small smile cross his lips. Maybe it was delirium making him feel better. Maybe he was finally hungry enough that even his depression was hallucinating happiness.

Or maybe he was finally starting to heal.


	5. Chapter 5

Cloud was in the middle of searching for the kitchen knives when he heard a sharp crack from the bedroom and a brief thunder of movement. He looked up just in time to see a half-frantic Sephiroth slam through the kitchen door.

"I'm okay," Cloud reassured instantly, frightened by the intensity he saw in the face of his lover.

"What are you doing?" Sephiroth asked, his voice sharp and suspicious.

"I was going to start dinner," Cloud replied, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. "I just couldn't find the knives..."

"Why do you want them?" his handsome lover demanded, his eyes cold and distant. They were so close, sometimes, to the warm look he usually gave Cloud. This was not one of those times.

"To... Chop vegetables?" Cloud said slowly. He realized only once the words had left his mouth why Sephiroth was worried. He instantly lowered his hands and covered the small scar on the inside of his forearm. "I'm not going to hurt myself again, Seph. I feel a lot better."

Sephiroth exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he seemed calmer. He hesitated, considering as he watched Cloud, then walked over and dropped a light kiss onto his head.

"I'll go fetch them," he murmured, turning to leave the room.

Cloud watched him, biting his lip, before calling after him "Thanks for hiding them." He wasn't really all that thankful—he didn't like being treated as a child—but he knew he hadn't been thinking straight. Even if there was still a part of him that wished he'd died and stayed dead.

Sephiroth glanced back at him, hesitating. Cloud saw a flicker of strange emotion on his face, then the man nodded slowly. Cloud heard him leave the house entirely, and turned back to the uncut vegetables with a frown. How badly had he damaged Sephiroth's trust with that moment of weakness, he thought, carefully pulling the spices he would need out of the cabinet. Not just his trust, he reminded himself with a shake of his head, remembering the intensity in Sephiroth's eyes as he demanded his promise that he wouldn't harm himself before he finally agreed to go to sleep.

"Damn it, Cloud," he whispered to himself. "Get your head out of your ass."

He stopped reprimanding himself the moment he heard the front door again. It brought a gust of cold air with it, and Cloud shivered before summoning a soft smile for Sephiroth. The man paused in the doorway, looking at him, his face tired and grim. Then he walked over and placed the knife block on the counter.

"You hid them on the roof, didn't you," Cloud said with a soft smile. "Good move. I couldn't get up there if I tried. I'd probably break my neck first."

"Don't," Sephiroth snapped, his eyes switching to glare at Cloud again. "Don't even joke about it."

Cloud froze at the anger in Sephiroth's voice. Something tightened in his chest, and he felt tears welling. He tried to fight them back, his breath hitching. Sephiroth's face fell from rage to sorrow in a moment, and he turned away.

"And don't cry," he rasped.

"I'm sorry," Cloud whispered, lifting a trembling hand to wipe the tears away from his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to. I almost never want to die anymore, Sephiroth... It's—It's better."

"Better," Sephiroth rasped in reply, giving a choked laugh. "Better." He repeated.

"Are you that angry at me?" Cloud asked, his voice shaking.

"No," Sephiroth replied at once. "I am not angry at you. It is not your fault."

"I know it's not my fault," Cloud snapped, slamming his hand down on the counter. "But you've been acting like you're pissed at me anyway! What do you want from me? I'm trying, Sephiroth!"

A shallow intake of breath answered his question, and a little jerk of the man's head.

"Tell me what happened," Cloud demanded. "You still haven't told me what happened. I heard him—he said the last Pheonix Down wouldn't work—and I heard a voice before I came back saying it needed me. Tell me what happened, Sephiroth. Why am I alive?"

"There is a voice in my head," Sephiroth whispered. "That tells me to burn everything."

Cloud froze stock still at the quiet words from his lover. He had demanded an explanation before—begged for one—but Sephiroth had never given it to him. He held stock still, listening.

"The Goddess of this world fears that I will listen to that voice," Sephiroth whispered, "So you are her collateral. If I fall, she kills you."

"Collateral," Cloud whispered, trembling. "That's... I'm just a tool to get to you?"

Sephiroth bowed his head further, and his next breath came out a wheeze. He slumped slowly, sliding down the counters as his anxiety caught up with him. Cloud stared down at him out of distant eyes. His stomach twisted at the thought. Tortured so that Hojo could get to Sephiroth. Saved so that the Goddess could get to Sephiroth. He never should have let Zack introduce them. He never should have let himself fall for the general.

"I'm sorry," a soft, loving voice whispered in his ear. "No man should go through what you have endured and live."

"Who are you," Cloud whispered, looking down blankly at Sephiroth as the man gasped hollowly for breath through one of the panic attacks that left him wordless and trembling for hours at a time—that Cloud had never seen him experience before that fateful day in the labs.

"I am the one who brought you back to life," the woman's voice murmured. "I am the one who will have to hurt you if he loses himself."

"No," Cloud whispered, shaking his head. "No, please..."

"I'm sorry," the voice whispered. "But it does not have to be this way. Look at him. He is weak. He is broken. He will never be whole."

Cloud looked down at Sephiroth, and his vision tunneled. He stiffened, expecting another seizure, but instead he saw something strange—something dark and horrible in his mind's eye. He saw a child, sitting empty and listless in a white, empty cell. Silver hair fell around his face as he stared dully at the wall, doing nothing, saying nothing. He couldn't have been more than ten. It was not a human thing. Not a thing any child should do. It was unnatural and chilling.

"He has never been normal. He will never be normal. He is not even human, Cloud," the woman said, her voice seeming closer than ever. "And yet his very existence has ruined your life."

"It wasn't his fault," Cloud whispered, shaking his head.

"I know," the woman said, her voice soft and kind. "I know, Cloud. But the fact remains that while he lives, you will never be free. I will never allow you to leave him."

"I don't want to leave him," Cloud choked, his voice tight with tears.

"He is dying inside, Cloud," The woman whispered. "He is dying because he knows you are his prisoner. It will break him, and I will have to destroy you both. You can save him from this."

"How," Cloud whispered, tears streaming from his eyes. "How."

His eyes turned of their own accord to the rack of knives Sephiroth had brought inside. He choked on a sob, shaking his head.

"He cannot set you free," the woman whispered sorrowfully. "He is too weak, and I would not let you die and leave him to destroy the world. I will never permit you to die while he lives."

"I can't," Cloud whispered.

"He would thank you," the goddess said sadly in his ear. "He has wished for death so many times. End this existence for him, Cloud. Set him free. Set yourself free. Or live tied to what Hojo has done to you the rest of your days, haunted by your memories and the pain of the man you claim to love."

Sephiroth wheezed in a breath, curling up with his back to Cloud, his fingers pulling thoughtlessly at his own shirt, as though trying to free himself from some restriction. Cloud stared down at him—at the sad state of the man he'd once considered almost god-like. He picked up the knife and knelt slowly behind Sephiroth.

"I'm right here," he whispered, his voice choked on tears, slowly lowering his free hand to rest on Sephiroth's back as the other one shifted it's grip on the knife. "I'm right here, Seph."

Sephiroth didn't move a long moment. Cloud lifted the knife towards his neck, his breath seizing in his chest as he readied himself. He had to make it painless. He had to make it fast. Then he would kill himself and follow his lover.

Then Sephiroth turned slowly into Cloud's touch, all but falling against him. His head landed heavily against Cloud's shoulder and he burrowed into his shirt. His breaths hitched in silent tear-less sobs, and Cloud heard the softest, strained apology escape his lips.

He felt like his heart stopped. He dropped the knife with a clatter that made the wound-tight man leaning against him jump in alarm. Cloud took the moment free of his weight to skitter away from him, leaving Sephiroth to drop hard against the cold linoleum floor. The man wheezed another breath, curling in on himself and hiding his face. Ashamed, Cloud thought in dull shock, to be seen so weak.

"What are you doing?" The woman asked in his head. "Cloud-"

"He trusts me," Cloud choked, all but blinded by tears. "What am I doing, he trusts me."

His stomach rebelled and he sprinted out of the kitchen towards the bathroom. The woman's voice whispered in his mind again, but Cloud shoved it away, sobbing as he retched into the toilet. He'd almost done it. He'd almost done it.

He sobbed and gagged until he was trembling with weakness as well as sorrow, sliding bonelessly off his bracing grip on the toilet to the floor. He choked, curling in on himself. His hands clawed helplessly in his hair. Tears blinded him and gagged him. Stole his breath until the world greyed out around him. He felt himself falling into another peti-mal seizure, and let it happen, welcoming the grey tunnel that cut him off from the real world.

He awakened to find himself still on the bathroom floor. Sephiroth was sitting not far away, the knife in his hands. Cloud groaned when he saw him, his hands clawing up to cover his face and hide his eyes. He didn't want to let himself see the look on Sephiroth's face.

"Were you going to kill me?" Sephiroth asked, his voice quiet in the small room.

"No," Cloud groaned, sobbing. "No, Seph, no, I wouldn't-"

"You had a knife," Sephiroth said softly.

"She was—I didn't—"

"She?" Sephiroth asked.

"She said I'd be free," Cloud sobbed.

He didn't even hear Sephiroth moving until his hands were being wrenched away from his face. Then he screamed and kicked and struggled against the man. The hands on him were far from gentle as Sephiroth jerked him upright and forced his hands to his sides.

"Which she?" Sephiroth barked.

"I don't know," Cloud sobbed. "I don't know, she said she brought be back! She said—She said I can't die till you're dead!"

"I thought you said you didn't want to die," Sephiroth snarled, the anger in his gaze back full force, softened only by the lines of utter exhaustion and the bloodshot look of his eyes.

"I don't," Cloud sobbed. "I don't! Seph, I—"

"Do it," Sephiroth demanded, dropping one of Cloud's hands to force the knife into the other. "If you want to so badly, then do it!"

Cloud screamed again, jerking away from him as hard as he could, pressing back against the wall, his hand still held too-tight in Sephiroth's grasp, the knife's handle being forced between his fingers.

"If you want to kill me, then kill me!" Sephiroth screamed, his voice cutting through Cloud's cries and denials. "The right is as much yours as anyone's. It is my fault, isn't it!? It's my fault he hurt you!"

"Let go," Cloud screamed. "Let go of me!"

"If you want to be free, then kill me!" Sephiroth barked, lifting Cloud's hand against his will to press the tip of his knife to his throat.

"You're hurting me!" Cloud cried, desperately fighting against the bruising grip on his wrist.

He slammed back into the wall as he was released, the knife clattering to the ground between the two of them. He curled in on himself, sobbing with shame and pain.

"I don't understand," Sephiroth whispered, sitting empty before Cloud, staring at him. "I thought you were better. I thought you had forgiven me."

"Seph," Cloud whispered. "Seph..."

"It was worth a try," A voice that was neither of theirs whispered into the room.

"You," Sephiroth snarled, his fury returning at once. His hand tightened automatically around the blade of the knife he'd been in the middle of picking up. "Did you do this?"

"Silence yourself, Calamity." the voice said sharply before it turned gentle again. "Do not cry, my Cloud. I will not try to make you harm him again."

"She is the one who spoke to you?" Sephiroth demanded of Cloud, making him curl up defensively around himself, crying so hard he could barely breathe.

"I said silence yourself," The woman's voice barked. "Do not blame the boy for the workings of his god."

"Go away," Cloud sobbed. "Go away, go away go away," the voice was long gone already—he'd felt it's presence vanish the moment he willed it to leave—but he kept chanting the mantra, sobbing and trembling.

"Cloud," a low voice said long after Cloud's whispers had faded into silence. "Calm yourself. She is gone."

"I didn't want to," Cloud swore, too afraid to look at the man he knew hated him now.

"I believe you," Sephiroth said softly. "Because you did not. Let me see your hand. I have hurt you."

"I'm fine," Cloud whispered.

"Show me," Sephiroth insisted.

Cloud couldn't deny him. He extended his hand slowly, fearing what would come next. All he got was a tender touch on the base of his arm, supporting himi carefully. Sephiroth let out a shaking breath and bowed his head, touching his forehead to Cloud's wrist oh-so-lightly.

"I could have broken your wrist," Sephiroth whispered. "What sort of a fool am I... To think you would really betray me."

"I did," Cloud argued, not wanting to be forgiven. "I did, I almost-"

"Almost," Sephiroth repeated, cutting him off. "Told by a god to kill me, and it is still 'almost.' This is not your fault, Cloud."

"Yes it is," Cloud barked. "It is! I almost took her up on it, even though it would mean you were—You were going to—"

"Shhh," Sephiroth whispered, shifting forward slowly and sitting at Cloud's side. "I understand. I'm not angry, Cloud."

"Yes you are," Cloud whispered. "I can hear it in your voice."

"Not at you," Sephiroth whispered. "Never at you."

"A second ago you were," Cloud whispered.

"No, not even then." Sephiroth whispered, shaking his head slowly. "Only at myself. For not being sure. For hurting you more. For never making it better. For being so terrible you wanted me to go away..."

"No," Cloud moaned, turning towards him, hiding in the arms that closed around him. "Never. Never leave me. I was weak. I was just weak for a second. I'm trying Seph. I'm trying."

"I know you are," Sephiroth whispered, shifting closer, drawing Cloud into his lap. "I know."

"I keep making it worse," Cloud sobbed. "I keep making it worse for you!"

"Shh," Sephiroth whispered, his lips pressing lightly against Cloud's head as he spoke. "Forget it. The workings of the gods are not your responsibility. Come to bed. Come lie down."

"I can't just forget," Cloud whispered. "I tried to kill you."

"No," Sephiroth whispered, stroking his hair slowly. "The Goddess tried to kill me. You saved me from her at great cost to yourself. I am so sorry, Cloud. I'm sorry that you are stuck here like this. I am sorry I cannot save you."

"You tried," Cloud whispered, hiding his face in Sephiroth's chest. "I know you tried."

"And you're trying too," the man replied. "So let's call it even. You and I. Let's forget it ever happened."

"I can't just forget," Cloud whispered.

"You already have too much to remember." Sephiroth said in reply, carefully cupping Cloud's cheek, gently drawing his face away from his chest. "I'm just sorry I hurt you. I did not mean to."

"Is this ever going to get better?" Cloud whispered.

"Yes," Sephiroth responded softly. "And I mean that from experience. It gets better. It doesn't go away, but it... Changes. It will get better. We just have to live long enough to see that day."

"I'm sorry," Cloud whispered. "I just wanted to make dinner. You should have left the knives on the roof."

"I think I will just throw them off a cliff," Sephiroth commented. "They keep causing problems."

Cloud couldn't help the choked laugh he gave, and was rewarded by a soft stroke of his hair and a slow exhale from Sephiroth.

"Come lie down," Sephiroth urged softly. "I want to listen to your heart beat. I want to fall asleep in your arms."

"Alright," Cloud whispered softly. "But the next time supernatural forces start talking to you or threatening you, you had better tell me..."

"I think that sounds very wise," Sephiroth responded, slowly rising with Cloud in his arms. "I should have told you from the start."

"She's the one who brought me back?" Cloud whispered into Sephiroth's chest.

"I wish I could say it was my love," Sephiroth replied with a sigh. "But it was her... And her that made you fall in the apartment... After you hurt yourself."

"I wondered," Cloud whispered. "I thought it was just my first seizure, but it was different."

"Did it hurt?" Sephiroth asked, sounding uncertain and afraid.

"No," Cloud said softly. "It was just like falling asleep that time. But dying... Dying hurt."

Sephiroth squeezed him gently and sank down on the bed with him. Cloud gasped softly as the man lay his head against his chest. He froze for a moment before slowly lifting his hands to wrap them around the back of Sephiroth's head, holding him in place.

"Your heart sounds strong," Sephiroth whispered, his eyes still closed tightly. "Listen to it."

"I can't hear my own heart," cloud whispered.

"You can if you try," Sephiroth replied, shaking his head a little. "Listen."

Cloud held still, trying to listen past his hitching breaths, removing a hand from Sephiroth's hair to wipe the tears off his face. He eventually nodded, hearing the soft thrum that moved through him over and over again as his heart beat.

"I hear it," he whispered.

"Listen to it closely," Sephiroth whispered. "It means you're still alive. It means it can still get better. Listen to your heart, Cloud, and tell me after whether you want to live. Honestly. No matter whether it is what I want to hear or not."

Cloud bit his lip, then took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. He listened to his heart beat. Listened to the steady, quick thrum of it working hard to compensate for his panic and shortness of breath. Listened as it calmed slowly at his attention and stillness. Felt Sephiroth shift above it, placing his ear firmly over Cloud's heart.

"I want to live," Cloud finally answered, his voice soft. "It doesn't matter if I have to. It doesn't matter who would make me do it even if I didn't want to. I want to live with you, Sephiroth."

"Good," Sephiroth whispered softly.

Cloud shifted, then froze as the bed moved strangely under him. He lifted his head, glancing back, and found himself staring at a cracked headboard, a split carving upwards through it that had not been there when he was last in the room.

"Seph," he whispered. "What happened to the bed?"

"You weren't here when I woke up," Sephiroth whispered, his face still pressed against Cloud's shirt. "I panicked a little."

"You broke our bed," Cloud snickered, petting Sephiroth's hair slowly as he looked at the split in the headboard. "Bet that wasn't the way you hoped to break this thing, huh."

Sephiroth gave a soft breath of sorrowful laughter. The sound was heartbreaking, and Cloud sniffled a little in response, caught between amusement and sorrow that cut straight to the heart of him.

"Do you think it will ever be how it was again?" Cloud asked him softly.

"No," Sephiroth replied, shaking his head slowly. "I don't think so. It will always be different. That does not mean it will not be good."

"I can live with that," Cloud whispered in reply.

Sephiroth didn't answer him. Cloud looked down to find the man's eyes closed again, his face cast in intensity as he listened to his heartbeat, his hands slowly, sliding around Cloud to rest behind his back, splayed against his shoulder blades, keeping them locked together with his ear to Cloud's chest.

"Will you be okay without dinner?" Sephiroth asked softly.

"I don't think I could eat," Cloud whispered. "Stay there, if it helps. I'll hold still."

"My head is heavy," Sephiroth whispered. "I only need to hear a little while."

"It helps," Cloud whispered. "It grounds me. Maybe... Maybe I'll have fewer nightmares with you nearby."

"I hope so," Sephiroth whispered. "I really hope so."

"They're," Cloud started before sighing. "I want to tell you they've gotten better. They haven't."

"I know," Sephiroth whispered.

"They will, though," Cloud insisted. "I'm sure they will. I... Seph..."

"Shh," Sephiroth whispered again, hushing him softly. "I know. I know."

"I'm so glad I didn't hurt you," Cloud sniffled. "I'm so, so glad. I was afraid... For just a moment, I was so afraid I was going to."

"Shhh," Sephiroth whispered again. "I can't hear your heart while you're talking so much."

"Jerk," Cloud whispered. "Won't even let me apologize without feeling bad."

"I couldn't save you," Sephiroth whispered softly, turning his face into Cloud's chest. "I should have been more careful. All of this—everything that's happened—it's my fault. I should have sacrificed anything to keep you safe from him."

"It's over now," Cloud replied, shaking his head. "You couldn't have known."

"I did, though," Sephiroth whispered. "He's always destroyed everything I loved. The moment he knew I wasn't just sleeping with you, you were in danger. I should have saved you from that fate at all costs. I was so caught up in our life together, I forgot all about him. You make me feel invincible. I wasn't afraid of him. I missed our appointments. I brushed him off. I forgot... I let myself forget what a danger he was to you. If anyone is at fault—for any of this—it is me."

"I would say it's Hojo," Cloud whispered in reply. "He's the one who was torturing people."

Sephiroth gave a dry, empty chuckle against Cloud's chest.

"Are you ever going to talk to me about it?" Cloud whispered. "You've kept it inside so long... It has to be terrible."

"When you're well," Sephiroth whispered into his chest. "For now, rest. When the gods have stopped meddling with us, when we are both well, then we will talk. Then I will tell you."

"I'm sorry for leaving you," Cloud whispered. "While you were having an attack. I was so..."

"No more apologies," Sephiroth insisted, squeezing Cloud lightly. "I bruised your wrist and frightened you. We are even."

"We're not even," Cloud snapped, staring down at Sephiroth. "I tried to—"

"No more talking," Sephiroth insisted, rising off of Cloud's chest to frown at him. He pressed their lips together in a kiss, then nuzzled back into his chest. "It was my fault, as is you being used as a bargaining chip by powers beyond our control. I think one aborted thought of putting me out of my misery and freeing yourself is more than forgivable."

"You're insane," Cloud whispered.

"I have known that for a long time," Sephiroth whispered. "You are behind the times."

"I love you," Cloud said when he couldn't find a reply.

"Go to sleep," Sephiroth murmured in reply. "Let me listen to your heart without apologies covering up its beating."

Cloud didn't go to sleep. He did fall silent, watching the silver-haired man's head rise and fall as he breathed in and out. Sephiroth never moved, keeping his ear pressed tightly over Cloud's heart. Cloud wasn't sure when the man fell asleep, exactly, but he did fall asleep. He curled instinctively closer to Cloud's warmth, hiding in his arms, and Cloud happily stroked his hair soothingly as he rested. He needed the sleep.

"If you ever do that again," Cloud whispered softly to the Goddess, "If you ever try to make me hurt him, I will do everything in my power to end you."

"You'd protect him?" The woman whispered. "Even knowing that he is no child of earth—that he is a monster in everything he is."

"I'll protect him until the day he kills me himself," Cloud whispered. "Until my final breath."

The Goddess did not answer him again, and eventually Cloud joined Sephiroth in sleep, curling around him protectively. Maybe, he thought to himself, if they were both protecting each other, they could make this work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOPS! I never uploaded chapter 5 here!!! here it is! And congrats, because you get chapter 6 RIGHT NOW! :D


	6. Chapter 6

Breakfast was a silent and awkward affair. At least for Cloud. If Sephiroth felt awkward he didn't show it. Cloud had a sneaking suspicion that Sephiroth felt was nothing at all past the wall of exhaustion that seemed to surround him. Cloud had expected the silver-haired General's insomnia to improve after the disastrous revelations they'd discovered a week before. It had gotten worse instead, though at least his panic attacks had vanished. If he still had them, he was doing an excellent job of hiding them from Cloud.

He'd promised Sephiroth that he would try to keep getting better, no matter what Gods put their head in the picture. He'd felt so much closer on that morning when everything went wrong. He wasn't entirely sure anymore whether he believed it was possible for him to move forward. It seemed that every time he started to get his feet back under himself, something else came along to bowl him over again.

He'd not spoken the fear aloud, but he was quietly terrified that if he didn't pull himself together fast, the next time he fell Sephiroth might not help him up.

Across the table, Sephiroth froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. Cloud watched Sephiroth's head tilt and his eyes narrow. He had frozen the moment his General did—there was no doubt that this was The General and not just Sephiroth. Every trooper had been trained from day one to stay quiet and out of the way whenever a Soldier's enhancements were at play.

"Someone is here," Sephiroth said grimly, rising from his seat at the table. It was the first thing he'd said so far that day.

"Someone?" Cloud asked, rising half a beat behind him.

"Stay here." Sephiroth ordered, striding towards the door.

"Seph," Cloud called, "You can't go out there alone. What if—"

"You are in no position to help," Sephiroth said softly, no cruelty in the brutally truthful words. "Stay here where I have some assurance that you will be safe."

Cloud grit his teeth, his frustration with Sephiroth rising. He knew that his lover was right. He would only be in the way as he was. It still hurt to hear.

"Be careful." He murmured after a long moment.

Sephiroth glanced back from the door, his posture tense and his expression distant. Then he favored Cloud with the smallest of smiles and a slow nod of agreement. Cloud was taken aback by the almost-grateful look in Sephiroth's face. By the time he'd overcome his surprise at the expression, Sephiroth had already vanished out the door.

Cloud moved to the next room over, edging up to the window to peer outside. He knew better than to look out the window from below. His hair would show to anyone watching long before he could see anything. He shifted carefully, gazing out the side of the window.

The woods were still and silent. Cloud's hands itched for a weapon. That was comforting in a way. He promised himself that if there was any movement towards their little house, he would go for the knives. He wouldn't let himself get hurt while Sephiroth was away trying to keep him safe.

Cloud breathed slowly and deeply, trying to keep himself steady. He watched, waiting for the flashes of silver that would herald Sephiroth's return. He chewed his lip, his stomach twisting. Anxiety rose uneasy memories in him. Terrible memories. He clenched his jaw, and refused to allow the thoughts to overwhelm him.

"Hang in there," Cloud whispered softly to himself. "Stay in the here and now."

He ran his hand over the wooden frame of the window as he waited, letting the tactile sensation of the wood sink into his mind, distancing him from cold metal. From pain and cutting and death and…

"Okay," he whispered to himself, breathing deeply. "Okay. No freaking out. No freaking out…"

Silver flickered. Cloud's hand clenched on the wood as he stared. Sephiroth was walking slowly and calmly. His head was lowered, and his sword still bare in his hand. He sighed out a breath of relief before going utterly still. Sephiroth was not alone.

Dark spikes bobbed as the man walked. A soft, sweet grin adorned his face, and he was still talking to Sephiroth a mile a minute. He carried a large camping-style bag in his left hand, and his huge sword was resting on his back. As Cloud watched, the familiar man nudged Sephiroth lightly and affectionately, grinning hugely up at him. He looked so very happy to see Sephiroth.

Cloud released the window frame and pushed away, running out of the house towards them. Zack lifted his head, beaming, and dropped the bag. He caught Cloud in a warm, fierce hug, his strong grip locking them together. Zack was always so warm.

"Spike!" He squeezed him as he spoke. "I missed you!"

"How did you get here!?" Cloud clung to him, careful not to cut himself on Zack's sword. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again!"

"Ah, you know," Zack shrugged, releasing Cloud with a fierce hair ruffle and scratching the scar on his cheek. "It's kind of a man-hunt situation."

"And they sent you?" Cloud asked, staring at Zack in bewilderment.

"I know, right?" The First grinned at him, his teeth shining like some recruitment poster. "It's like they don't know me at all!"

"I'm sure they know all about the Turks following you, though." Sephiroth rumbled softly, stepping forward a little. Cloud went still, glancing around, but Zack just waved them off.

"Oh, they think they do," he said mildly. "Turks. Everyone thinks they know them. They won't bother us."

"How can you be sure?" Sephiroth asked in a rumble, frowning to himself. Cloud rubbed his arm, wanting to soothe his protective agitation. "If 'everyone thinks they know them,' you must be counted among that number too, must you not?"

"I'll explain everything inside,' Zack promised, hefting his bag again. "Assuming you'll let me come in, of course."

Sephiroth sighed, and Cloud felt his tense muscles relax under his hand. He gave him a faint, hopeful smile.

"You are always welcome," Sephiroth murmured. "Or I never would have told you where this place was."

He turned to lead the way inside, and Zack slung his free arm around Cloud's shoulders as he followed. Cloud grinned at the rough contact. It was as familiar as home, and something inside him eased at having his offhandedly affectionate friend around. Sephiroth had been more than kind—had tried at every turn to make Cloud feel welcome and whole and safe and loved—but it was taxing for the ex-general to touch anyone for an extended period of time. Even people he liked. For Zack it was like breathing. Something natural and wonderful that he did every moment he could, and seemed to enjoy every second of.

The house seemed painfully dreary with someone as lively as Zack stepping inside, but if the First noticed the grim feeling that clung to the inside of the walls he ignored it with good grace. He released Cloud only long enough to rest the Buster Sword carefully by the doorway before lifting the bag, grinning hugely.

"I brought presents!" He sing-songed, opening the heavy-looking pack and pulling out a set of smaller bags.

"Thanks, Zack." Cloud whispered as he took the bag of clothes he was passed. He could feel a book inside the bag he was handed, and something inside him eased. Books were something he'd desperately missed.

"Of course!" Zack cried. "I figured with you two running off so fast well-fitting clothes would be in short supply. I brought this for you too, Seph."

He rummaged in the bag before removing a grocery bag wrapped tight around three tubes about the size of Zack's forearm. He passed them over, smiling knowingly. Sephiroth inhaled deeply, and his weary eyes widened as he stared at the items he'd been handed.

"My shampoo..." He whispered, sounding strangely like someone had just handed him his childhood teddy bear.

"Sorry there's not more," Zack said fondly. "I know how much you like your thirteen subtle fragrances."

His laughter was interrupted by a brief hug from the usually standoffish ex-general. Cloud was treated to the look of shock on Zack's face as Sephiroth gave him the smallest of squeezes.

"Thank you." The man whispered, stepping back quickly and averting his eyes. "It will be good to feel like myself."

"Uh," Zack rubbed a hand through his own spiky hair, giving Sephiroth a brief, uncertain grin. "You got it. I'm glad it made you happy."

"Will you be here a while?" Sephiroth rumbled.

"I can probably swing an hour," Zack laughed to himself. "After all, I'm supposed to be combing the woods for you."

"Would you two mind if I took some time, then?" Sephiroth asked softly. "Not that I don't enjoy your company, but…"

"Take a nap," Cloud quickly pushed Sephiroth towards the bedroom. "You haven't slept in days, and Zack will look after me a while."

"You need looking after?" Zack teased, though the look on his face was uncertain.

"Wake me before you go." Sephiroth murmured instead of answering.

"Sleep well," Cloud replied firmly, kissing him. "We'll wake you to say bye."

Sephiroth let out a soft breath, but he didn't at all object. He just nodded to the confused looking Zachary and walked back into their bedroom, cradling the shampoo he'd been given as though it were a precious gift.

"Are you two okay?" Zack asked softly after a moment.

"Not really," Cloud whispered, gesturing to him. "Come on. I'll make you some tea."

He walked into the kitchen, carefully placing the bundle of clothes that smelled so much like home on the kitchen counter before turning on the stove. He was grateful Sephiroth had splurged for tea yet again—grateful that the man had kept a secret bank account, though he was unnerved by the implications that Sephiroth had been planning to vanish for quite a while.

"It's… A nice house." Zack offered, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

"Seph intended it as a vacation home," Cloud gave Zack a small smile and tried to make it an honest one. "He made a nice pick. It's quiet, and stays warm even though it's pretty chilly outside… I really like it."

"But you didn't just elope here," Zack moved forward, stepping up to Cloud's side and laying a hand on his shoulder. "Did you?"

"No," Cloud whispered, careful to put the mugs he was holding down gently on the counter rather than letting them slip out of his suddenly shaky hands. "No, we didn't."

"Tell me what happened?" Zack requested, his brows twisting.

Cloud hesitated, staring at the two mugs on the counter. Then he reached up and pulled a third cup out, taking a slow breath as he did.

"It looks like it's going to start raining soon," he murmured, glancing out the window to the dull grey sight of the soon-to-be-wet woods. "You'd better call your Turk friend in. Then we'll talk."

Zack stood still behind him for a long moment. Then the hand on his shoulder squeezed briefly tighter, and Cloud listened to the man walk back towards the door of the small house he'd come to take for granted as a sanctuary over the past weeks. Seeing Zack's face had quite suddenly driven home how much he'd lost. He stared at the steam pouring out the spout of the tea kettle, and was awed by how numb he felt towards the loss of the life he'd begun to love at Shinra.

"Cloud," Zack said from the doorway when he returned, "I'd like to introduce you to Tseng, current head of the Turks so long as you ask anyone but Heidegger."

Cloud glanced over at the Wutaian man with his calm, beautiful features and deadly eyes. His hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail behind his neck and his attention was fixed on Cloud in a way that reminded him strangely of a predatory cat. The Turk's suit was ever so slightly damp with speckles of rain adorning his shoulders. Cloud glanced out the window, watching the leaves outside start to dance as rain dropped against them.

"Pleasure to meet you." He murmured, not offering to shake hands. "I hope you don't object to black tea?"

"I have no need of refreshments," The Turk replied, his voice as controlled as his appearance.

"He loves the stuff," Zack said with the air of a translator. "Lighten up, you two. We're all on the same side here."

"What side is that?" Cloud asked, glancing up from waiting for the water to boil to look Zack over.

"I think tea first is a good plan." The dark haired man said playfully.

The handle of the mug Cloud was holding snapped off in his hand as he glared, and even the animated First went still, staring at it.

"You're currently here representing a company that destroyed my life and Sephiroth's," Cloud whispered, surprised by how intense his own voice sounded. "I think right now is a perfectly good time."

Silence fell in the room for a moment as Cloud carefully shifted the broken mug out of the way and pulled a new one down. Between his anger, his flashbacks and Sephiroth's panic attacks, the two of them were hell on dishware.

"I still don't know what happened, exactly," Zack said softly. "There aren't any security cameras in Hojo's labs. Not that anyone other than him could get into. But I know something bad happened, and I know that the company let it. That's why we're working on taking them down."

"Zachary." Tseng said, a warning tone in his low voice.

"Trust me, Tseng," Zack said softly. "I'm not as much of a stupid puppy as people think I am. We can trust Cloud."

"Who's we?" Cloud lifted the tea kettle before it could start whistling and wake his boyfriend in the back room.

"The Turks, Rufus Shinra, me, Kunsel, a few others." Zack replied easily, giving a short shrug. "It's a big company, and there aren't a lot of us, but there's that thing Tseng says…"

He gave the Turk puppy eyes, and the Wutaian man sighed softly with the air of someone who had said the same thing too many times.

"So long as one knows where to hit," he murmured, "It doesn't take many strikes to bring any target down."

Cloud gave a soft shudder and wiped a hand over his face once he was done pouring the tea. It was unnerving, hearing those cold, tactical words. It sounded like the sort of thing Hojo would have thought about Sephiroth. He didn't like feeling like one of those strategic weak points. He knew that's what he was, though.

"Cloud?" Zack said quietly from his right. "Breathe, buddy. You're not breathing."

Cloud sucked in a breath of air swiftly, blinking to clear the fog of memory and fear from his vision. He looked outside at the rain, watching as it began to make the transition from a drizzle to a torrent.

"Sugar's in the cupboard if you take it," Cloud murmured, gesturing loosely towards the place before lifting his own black tea, carrying it into the next room.

He sat at the table, but his eyes stayed fixed outside on the dark rain. The rush as it pounded against the roof was strangely comforting. Like a heartbeat. He cradled the warm mug between his palms, not caring that it was a little too hot. If he squeezed it a little more tightly he could feel his own heartbeat in his palms.

"What did he do to you?" Zack asked softly from the doorway as he walked in, carrying his tea.

"He killed me," Cloud responded dully, not moving his eyes from the window. "Made Sephiroth watch. Then he dragged me back with a Phoenix Down and did it again."

Zack winced. Even without looking away from the window Cloud could see him flinch. He glanced over, giving his friend a sympathetic look when he realized he'd made him slosh hot tea across his hands. He rose from the table, walking over and grabbing a kitchen towel, taking the mug from Zack's hands and pressing the towel into them.

"Don't hurt yourself," He murmured, taking Zack's tea to the table, feeling strangely detached. He'd expected to break down, talking about it. He hadn't expected this distance.

"How many times?" The Turk asked, walking past the stunned first.

Zack stood where he'd been, rooted in spot, toweling the tea slowly off his hands.

"Did I get brought back?" Cloud asked. "Four."

"That shouldn't be possible," Tseng commented mildly, taking the seat furthest from Cloud at the table out of politeness.

"Sephiroth's good at impossible." Cloud said with a shrug. "Just ask his wing."

"He's got a wing too?" Zack asked softly, walking over to the table.

He looked so miserable that Cloud had to reach over and pat his limp hand. He turned the pat into a squeeze when Zack cast him a soulful look out of his teary eyes.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered.

"You couldn't have stopped it," Cloud murmured, knowing that would be no comfort to his friend but unsure what else to say. "Even Seph couldn't."

"No wonder he looks seven shades of fucked up," Zack murmured. He showed no signs of giving Cloud's right hand back, so Cloud lifted his tea with his left, sipping from it slowly, only peripherally noticing the burn on his tongue.

"He doesn't sleep much anymore," Cloud shrugged a little, only aware of how bad and sick their little routine sounded now that he was trying to put it into words for Zack.

How could he explain their daily routine? The day after day of him heaving his guts out over memories and Sephiroth anxiously and lovingly trying to make him eat and drink enough to keep his body on the path to recovery. The constant fear about when the voices of women from elsewhere would murmur to one of them next. The sleeplessness in Sephiroth's eyes. The panic attacks. The seizures. The flashbacks. The broken bed and the often-absent kitchen knives.

"Hojo is dead. Right?" Cloud asked softly.

"He is very dead," Tseng commented dryly. "Sephiroth broke his neck very thoroughly. Thoroughly enough that he was, for all intents and purposes, decapitated."

"It was fast, wasn't it," Cloud whispered, finding himself staring down at the table instead of the man holding his hand or the strange Turk. "Lucky bastard."

He regretted the pronouncement when Zack made a soft sound of pain and sorrow in response. He squeezed the other man's hand lightly as Tseng took a slow drink of his tea across from him.

"Tell me about the coup," He murmured. "I'm no threat to anyone. I doubt I'll be up to leaving this house for a long time."

"I believe you." Tseng said, placing his mug down and facing Cloud with frank eyes. "Where would you like me to start?"

"After Sephiroth ran with me." Cloud said with a shrug, less interested in the espionage than he was eager to get the subject off himself.

"You're okay, right?" Zack asked softly. "You're safe and healthy and…"

"I'm fine." Cloud murmured. "I want to hear what's going on at Shinra."

"Alright then," Tseng said, setting his mug aside and steepling his fingers. "Beginning with the death of the Professor."

Cloud phased in and out as he listened. His fingers beat an uneasy rhythm on the back of Zack's hand, and he ran a fingernail over the surface of his mug. He got the gist of the story. Zack coming to Tseng for answers after their abandonment, and the men deciding that things had gone too far. The higher ups of the company had promoted Zack to the General of Soldier in light of having no one else left of a level to take the position.

"Congrats on the promotion," Cloud murmured, looking to Zack.

"Wasn't exactly how I wanted to join the ranks of heroes." Zack looked downright dejected.

"I know." The blond squeezed his hand tightly.

"Since then, the Turks and Soldiers have been dispatched on many missions to find you and Sephiroth." Tseng said with a small shrug. "And now we have found you, and we will pretend we did not."

Cloud nodded in slow understanding.

"How are you really holding up?" Zack asked softly after a moment of silence fell around the table. "Sephiroth's asleep, so there's no need to lie to protect him."

"I wouldn't lie to him," Cloud said softly, lowering his eyes. "I'm not dead, and I don't want to die or to kill myself. But sometimes I… I just…" He took a deep breath. "I want to be dead. I know that doesn't make sense…"

"It is not an uncommon emotional experience," Tseng reported from behind guarded eyes. The Turk's steady gaze made Cloud's stomach twist anxiously. "Once Shinra is no longer a factor, it would be wise of you to seek help. The mind is a dangerous thing, especially when turned against itself."

"Yeah… Great." Cloud muttered softly, lowering his head and propping it in his free hand. "Honestly I'm not that surprised about what's happening in my head. I was okay, and now I'm fucked up, and that makes sense."

Zack twitched a little when he cursed, and Cloud gave him a confused look. Zack shrugged sheepishly in return.

"You never curse unless you're really hurting." The First explained.

Cloud turned back to the table, nodding his understanding.

"Something is bothering me, though." He whispered after a long moment. "Sephiroth… He's never been like this before. I know his traumas didn't just suddenly appear, so why did they get so bad all of a sudden?"

Zack stared down at their joined hands for a moment before looking up to Tseng for explanation. The Turk hummed lowly, crossing his arms and looking towards the bedroom where the General was sleeping.

"I would assume," he said softly after a long while, "That it is an extended effect of the break down Turks experience after a long mission."

"A mission?" Cloud repeated. "But he hasn't been on a mission. We've been together for years…"

"To an extent," Tseng agreed slowly. "But he has never been free, Mr. Strife. Not until now. There are no security cameras and no press here. If there were, he would feel free to kill them. And, perhaps most importantly, he has murdered his abuser. I speak from experience when I say that that sort of thing… It changes one's perspective."

"So freedom's been bad for him." Cloud said blankly.

"In the short term," Tseng agreed. "And probably for a while longer. He does not know how to live without putting up an act, Mr. Strife. You will almost certainly watch him go through stages where he truly seems to be back to himself, and then low points once more. It is like triangulating a target. He will miss frequently in each direction until he discovers a new normal. Does that make sense to you?"

"Yeah." Cloud answered, gazing at the Turk. "It does…"

"See why I keep him around?" Zack joked, although it was rather weak humor for the usually bouncy man.

"I always figured you had a reason." Cloud answered, finding himself smiling at his friend despite the situation. "I've always trusted your judgement."

Zack shot him a stunning and delighted grin, squeezing his hand in return. He leaned forward, giving Cloud a light headbutt, and the blond chuckled softly in return.

"Zachary." Tseng said softly. "I'm sorry. We're coming close to our time to return. If we don't want to draw attention to this area we should go."

"Right." Zack said, nodding his agreement, though he looked sad. "Cloud, you'll be okay here with Sephiroth? He's looking after you, right?"

"He's been amazing, Zack." Cloud murmured softly. "He'll keep me safe and sound. You'll come back to visit?"

"As soon as I can." Zack promised. "Let me go say goodbye to Seph. I promised to wake him before we left, after all."

"I'd better come with you." Cloud agreed, rising slowly out of his seat. "He won't like waking up if I'm not in sight."

"He'll get better." Zack promised with a firm nod. "He's always been tough, and you bring out the best in him, Cloud."

"I hope so." Cloud whispered, not daring to mention the near disastrous incident that had almost taken place in the little cottage's kitchen. His stomach twisted at the very thought, and the secret burned inside him. But Zack had to leave now, and it was not the right time to bring up Monsters and Goddesses.

Sephiroth was deeply asleep, his hair splayed out, still fully clothed. Zack walked over and sat at his side, waking him with a hand in the center of his chest. Cloud had to admire the forethought. It was at once familiar and gentle while still putting Zack in a position to fend Sephiroth off if he woke violently.

"You have to leave?" Sephiroth whispered without bothering to open his eyes.

"I'll come back as soon as it's safe." Zack said, his non-answer an answer in and of itself. "Cloud promised to keep you safe, so I know I don't have to worry."

Sephiroth's lips twitched into an almost smile, and his eyes flickered open to look up at Zack.

"Be careful." He murmured. "You might have been a puppy once, but now you are in a den of wolves."

"I wouldn't worry about me." Zack said with a warm smile. "I would take the metaphor further with something about, like, befriending the bats or whatever, but I'm bad at double speak. Except for the dirty kind. I'm really good at those."

"I know." Sephiroth sighed, sitting up stiffly and stretching.

"Get more sleep." Zack ordered, his expression grim and his hand still resting on Sephiroth's chest. "You'll worry Cloud like this. Plus, it's bad for your complexion."

Sephiroth studied him quietly, then nodded his approval, leaning forward to delicately touch their foreheads together. Zack held the position a long moment before standing off the bed, tugging on one of Sephiroth's bangs.

"And stop being so pretty." He ordered playfully. "I work out all day long and you're still better looking than I am while you're lying around being miserable."

Cloud laughed, averting his eyes with a warm grin. He quietly felt the same. Sephiroth just shook his head and waved Zack away, sitting back against the headboard.

"I'll see you soon, Zachary." He murmured. "And I'm sorry again. I hated to leave you behind."

"Hey, at least you told me." Zack said with a shrug. "So far all you've done is kept yourself and Cloud safe. Heck, you've even gotten both of you guys far enough away that I don't have to worry about bringing Shinra down with you inside it. So woo! Go team!"

"Zack." Called Tseng from the living room, impatient.

"Take care of each other." Zack ordered, giving a little wave over his shoulder and turning to saunter out of the room.

Cloud sat down at Sephiroth's side, not even bothering to take his shoes off to sit on the bed. Who was there to mind but them, after all? Sephiroth wrapped an arm around his shoulders, the two of them listening together as Zack left the little place that had become their home.

"Have a good power nap?" Cloud asked softly after he was certain the last distant echo of Zack's footsteps and laughter had left their home.

"I feel like I could sleep for years." Sephiroth said. "I wish he could have stayed."

"I wish you trusted me enough to sleep." Cloud commented, not vindictively. It was just a statement of fact, so far as he was concerned.

"I will." Sephiroth murmured wearily. "But I meant I wish he could have stayed to talk… I wish I was less tired to speak with him."

Cloud softened, leaning against Sephiroth and rubbing his arm with slow, loving strokes.

"I figured for today you might benefit from the time with someone who was not me." Sephiroth's voice was low, carrying that same edge of guilt it so often did recently. "I hope I was not mistaken."

"Don't put yourself down like that." Cloud said. "You're right more often than you think, you know."

"Then… That's a yes. It was beneficial for you."

"Yeah." Cloud responded. "It was good to feel grounded again."

Sephiroth let out a breath and pulled Cloud a little closer. He gave a wide yawn, and covered his mouth to hide it, even as his eyes squinted into the light outside their window.

"Why don't we lie down before dinner?" Cloud asked. "If you're pinning me you sleep better, right? I don't mind."

"It's undignified for you." Sephiroth complained in a low, embarrassed murmur.

"It's for you." Cloud said, shaking his head. "I wouldn't mind if you asked me to dress in lingerie to help you rest."

Sephiroth's lips twitched. "Is that so?"

Cloud gave a soft chuckle, dragging Sephiroth down to the bed, snuggling up beneath him into a position where Sephiroth wasn't crushing him, but was still very much holding him in place with his body. The once-General gave a sigh of relief.

"Want me to catch you up on Shinra news?" Cloud offered. "I think I picked enough of the story up to be useful."

"Go ahead." Sephiroth's voice was muffled against Cloud's shirt. "Nothing puts me to sleep faster than politics."

Cloud smiled at his boyfriend, delighted by the change even a short visit from Zack had caused in him. But still, as he started relaying what he'd heard, he silently reminded himself of Tseng's warning. It was going to take a lot of ups and downs before Sephiroth was himself again. And, he supposed, the same could be said for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go. Now you're all caught up! Things are finally looking up for our boys. Maybe in the next chapter things will get better!
> 
> Maybe.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special warnings for lots of talk about scarring in this chapter! Traumatic warnings are in effect for this and the next chapter. Please remember to protect yourselves from potentially triggering content!

Cloud stood before the mirror, holding eye contact with himself. He forced his breathing to be slow and even as he steeled himself. It was the first time in a long time he'd taken more than a glimpse at himself and managed not to panic. He'd decided that morning that he needed to know how badly disfigured he was. He was sticking with his decision.

In ways, it was better than he'd thought. The scars on his torso were ugly, there was no doubt. Phoenix Downs were never meant to replace cures. But while he was staring at the layered feathery marks that rested over his heart from his resurrections, he could almost pretend the other scars weren't there. That was not the case with the loss of muscle that was clearly obvious, even from his peripheral vision. The feather marks were indistinct and faint—difficult to discern one from the other—but Cloud knew there were four of them. I wasn't the sort of thing one forgot.

"It's okay," he whispered to himself, feeling silly for the self-given pep talk, but finding himself in need of it. "It's just scars. Everyone has some scars."

'Except Sephiroth.' His mind supplied, as grim as it was unhelpful.

Cloud shook off the thought, wrapping his arms around himself defensively. He could feel his ribs. He needed to do a better job of gaining back the weight he'd lost. There were just too many memories waiting to choke back his appetite for him to gain any ground. For a moment, he forgot himself and glanced down at his chest. The stark pale scar streaking up past his folded arms to his clavicle caught him by surprise, despite the fact that he had known it was there. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to breathe.

He knew he had more important things to think about—knew that he had a whole set of new traumas that needed facing and things to be grateful for, but all he could think was what Sephiroth would think. Sephiroth, who had so often kissed Cloud's chest and murmured over how smooth it was. Who had smiled down at Cloud, his own pale skin unblemished despite his work as a General. And now here Cloud was, covered in ugly scars. How would Sephiroth ever be able to look at him with anything but sorrow and pity now.

He slid his eyes back up to the mirror, and forced his hands away from where they were covering him. The mark of the deep, ugly cut that had allowed Hojo's hands so deep inside him dominated his chest. The burn scars where electrodes had stuck were hardly noticeable in comparison. The place where the injections that had burned through his veins were administered wasn't obvious, but Cloud knew that up close there would be puckered marks where needles had jammed under his skin.

"Horrible," Cloud whispered as he stared at himself fixedly, unable to remove his gaze from the ghastly scars covering his torso now that he'd laid eyes on them.

"Cloud?" asked a low voice from the doorway.

Cloud jerked back from his study of himself, grabbing a towel off the rack swiftly to cover his chest with. His hands shook as he pressed the light cover over his marred skin. In the doorway, Sephiroth lifted his hands in quiet surrender, worry written on his face. Cloud hated that look of concern as much as he relied it. It meant Sephiroth loved him, of course, which was always going to be a good thing. But it also meant that he was still hurting. That Cloud was still causing him pain.

"I'm sorry," Sephiroth murmured. "I didn't mean to intrude. Did I startle you?"

"Seph," Cloud whispered. "I was just, um... Just finishing up. I'll be out in a little while."

"Alright," Sephiroth replied softly, giving a small nod. He hovered in the doorway, as though waiting. Cloud shifted uneasily.

"Could I maybe have some privacy?" Cloud muttered.

"What you said," Sephiroth replied, rather than commenting on Cloud's request. "Is it your scars?"

Cloud twitched, tensing. He held the towel a little closer. His fingers hurt from clenching it too tight.

"That's what I thought," Sephiroth murmured, walking forward slowly. Cloud took a step back from him.

"Don't," he muttered, averting his eyes.

"I won't do anything to expose you," Sephiroth promised, brushing his fingers over Cloud's hair. "I understand if they are hurting you. Or triggering memories. You don't have to be ashamed, though. Not for any reason."

"They're hideous," Cloud found himself saying. "You liked me the way I used to look."

"I like you no matter how you look," Sephiroth promised, cupping Cloud's left cheek gently.

"Don't just say that," Cloud muttered, turning his face away from Sephiroth's gentle fingers. "You... They're bad. I'm all skinny and scarred, and you're probably just going to yell at me for being worried about what you think of me when I should be worried about recovering, but—"

"I'm not going to yell at you," Sephiroth replied, his hand lowering back to his side after Cloud rebuked it.

"Besides," Cloud whispered. "It's just another thing that makes it that much more obvious how far I am below you. You don't have any scars."

Sephiroth went still for a moment, his eyes going distant. He spoke only after a long while, his voice soft and distant.

"Do you know why you scar, Cloud?" He whispered, his voice low. "Human cells survive by replicating themselves. Copies of copies. Usually it's a calm, slow process. The body can take its time perfecting the replacements. When you're damaged or hurt, your body responds in panic. It replicates the cells you need as quickly as it can. It tends to just...Pile them on. Like a bandage. Over time, the unnecessary ones tend to fade, but some of the extra imperfect cells remain. That is all a scar is—your body bandaging what was once a wound."

"That doesn't change anything," Cloud whispered, looking down. "It's still ugly... It's terrible."

Sephiroth went still, his brilliant green eyes lowering and tracing over the tiles of the floor. Cloud watched his chest rise and fall under his shirt as he breathed, waiting for him to leave, as he'd requested. He knew Sephiroth would try to argue, but he also knew he wasn't wrong.

"It is just a mark," Sephiroth argued softly.

"It's never going to go away, though," Cloud replied, shaking his head, trying to ignore the way his hands shook on the towel he was holding close. "I'm always going to have this thing on me, and you'll see it, and-"

"Cloud," Sephiroth interrupted. "I need you to wait here a moment."

Cloud stared at him, startled by the unorthodox interjection. It was not at all part of Sephiroth's usual script. He never walked away from their arguments, no matter how small. He watched the man sweep out of the room with a flicker of silver hair, waiting with ill-concealed anxiety for his return.

Sephiroth returned with a red marker. Cloud wasn't sure where he'd gotten it from. He hadn't noticed it around the house. but he supposed every house ought to have a marker somewhere. He watched as Sephiroth stepped in front of the mirror and pulled off his shirt, marker still in hand.

"The difference between us," Sephiroth whispered, "Is not that you have been hurt and I have not. It is that you cannot see my scars."

Cloud realized what Sephiroth was about to do a moment before the heavy tip of the marker touched the pale, perfect skin just below his collar bone and traced outwards. The violently red mark was stark on the otherwise pale and unmarred expanse of skin. Cloud gaped, a hand half-raised to stop Sephiroth from marring himself. Sephiroth's eyes stayed fixed in the mirror as he pulled the marker free of his skin, taking a slow breath. Cloud watched the man's eyes trace over the mark he'd made on his reflection. Then Sephiroth's marker descended again.

This time it struck out over his stomach, a sharp slash of the ink that left Sephiroth's handsome muscles with a line across them almost as long as Sephiroth's forearm. The marker struck again, and this time with a line that went straight down Sephiroth's forearm. This one he dotted, and Cloud shivered at the implication. He'd seen marks like that. Sephiroth wasn't just drawing injuries. He was giving Cloud a map of what had been done. A wound at his chest, a wound at his stomach. On his arm, a dissection

The marker struck again and again. Cloud found himself shivering as Sephiroth's map grew. He watched the dotted lines appear over and over. Watch the memory of injuries flash through Sephiroth's eyes as he added puncture marks and slices. Cloud could not help a shallow gasp when Sephiroth lifted his hand, his expression fixed, and drew a sharp line across his cheek. His lips twitched into a faint sneer as he stared at his reflection. He dragged the marker over the corner of his lips. It pulled down his lower lip as he made the heavy mark, leaving a red stain as bright as blood on his pale lips.

He stared into the mirror a moment before the sneer turned into a snarl as he lowered the marker past his jaw. He dragged a dotted line across his throat, his breath hitching at the touch. Cloud watched the tendons strain under the caress of memories.

"Seph," Cloud whispered. "Seph, enough."

Sephiroth did not listen. He added a dotted line at the corner of his eye, extending over his eyelid. Cloud shuddered at the implications of where Hojo's scalpel had gone, his eyes burning with tears as he watched the man he loved disfigure himself. He moved forward, calling the other man's name again, softly. Sephiroth's eyes were distant—fixated. Cloud caught his hand mid-way through adding a mark at the base of his jaw, making the marker twitch as he stopped it's terrible motion.

"It's alright," Cloud soothed softly, the towel he'd covered himself with discarded and forgotten. "It's alright, Seph. I understand."

Sephiroth stared at himself in the mirror. His breaths were shallow, but steady. Cloud could not help but watch the rise and fall of his chest—the way the lines he'd drawn on himself shifted as the skin moved over muscle and bone. It was a terrible picture that Sephiroth had painted him. He held on to the man's wrist, even as Sephiroth moved the marker away from his skin.

"It is not," Sephiroth said softly, after a long while of simply breathing. "It is not that I have not been hurt. It is only that I do not scar."

Cloud had nothing he could say in response. He lifted onto his toes and pressed a kiss to the mark on Sephiroth's jawline—the only piece of his face he could reach easily with Sephiroth facing the mirror distantly, ramrod straight. The moment his lips touched Sephiroth's skin, the man let out a slow breath and turned into the touch. The next time Cloud kissed him, it was on the lips. He felt the marker touch his own chest, caught between them, but ignored it completely. He closed his eyes into the contact, winding his fingers through Sephiroth's hair. He felt the once-General's tense muscles slowly settle—felt the moment Sephiroth released some of the tension that had held him so stiff he was trembling.

Cloud pulled back slowly, running his fingertips lightly over Sephiroth's cheekbone, tracing the mark there.

"Don't cry," Sephiroth whispered, his eyes fixated on Cloud's face.

Cloud hadn't even realized he was. He sniffled and wiped the back of his hand over his cheeks, wiping away the tears. He tried not to stare at the patchwork that his lover had turned himself into. The drawn-on scars painted a gory picture of Sephiroth's past. He tried not to think about what the dotted lines had been for. Especially the one across Sephiroth's throat that looked like it ought to have killed him.

"You shouldn't have done this to yourself," Cloud whispered, blinking back more tears and sliding his hands over Sephiroth's side, tracing the drawn-on bite marks. "You didn't have to."

"I could not put it in words," Sephiroth replied after a moment. "I have never been able to."

"Still," Cloud whispered, stepping forward to press his face against Sephiroth's chest. "Still…"

"Did it help?" Sephiroth asked softly.

"Maybe," Cloud shook his head, pressing his forehead against Sephiroth's warm chest. "I don't know. I don't even care about that right now. I just…"

His voice broke, and it felt like his heart was squeezing inside him. He clenched his teeth to keep from keening his sorrow aloud, and burrowed his face against Sephiroth's chest, his fingers resting over the lines that streaked down his shoulders. He pressed kiss after kiss to the usually invisible scars, trying to ingrain them in his memory.

"Oh," Sephiroth whispered, lowering a hand to rest on his back. "Oh, Cloud, I did not intend this to draw attention to myself. It is only that I do not want you to feel alone. Not in your scars or in what he did."

"Why didn't anyone help you?" Cloud whispered.

"No one knew," Sephiroth replied softly. "No one could. Or they'd have been…" He trailed off, averting his eyes. They were no longer as distant as they were when he was marking himself, but they still looked glazed and foggy.

Cloud stared up at the look and felt quietly sick. The stony look that Sephiroth so often held looked different with the red color slashing violently across his pale skin.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Cloud whispered after a moment. "If I can smell the marker on you it's got to be making you lightheaded by now, Mr. Enhanced Senses."

"You do not have to joke," Sephiroth's wide hand cupped his cheek, and he drew him into a soft kiss. "I will clean up and rejoin you soon."

"I'd rather stay with you," Cloud placed his hand over Sephiroth's, leaning into the warm contact. "If that's okay."

"I would never turn down your presence," Sephiroth whispered. "If you are comfortable with staying."

"If you don't mind all this." Cloud whispered, gesturing weakly to himself.

He regretted the words instantly. Sephiroth's brows twisted and his eyes lowered guiltily. Cloud saw the look of failure in the man and mentally scolded himself, shifting forward to carefully cup Sephiroth's chin in his own hand.

"I know you don't," he said softly to the man. "I do, though. It's… It's hard to think of it from your eyes. I just see how… How thin I am, and how stark the scars are."

"You will regain your muscle mass," Sephiroth said firmly. "And your scars will fade."

"And until then, I'm going to look like I just popped out of a prison camp or a horror movie." Cloud muttered bitterly.

"And I do not?" Sephiroth asked.

"No," Cloud murmured. "Never. You look like a warrior."

"That is what you look like to me," Sephiroth whispered. "You look like the only person in the world who has stayed. Despite everything, you are still with me. You still care. You still worry. Even after all that has been done to you. You are as much a warrior as I, Cloud. In my eyes if not in yours."

"Come on," Cloud rested a hand over the dotted line down Sephiroth's center. "Shower. I don't want you to have to think about this every time you look in the mirror."

They turned the water on as hot as it would go with the old water-heater in the cabin's basement. Sephiroth carded his fingers through Cloud's hair as Cloud soaped up the red lines on his skin and rinsed them off over and over, dimming the lines, but unable to remove them. Sephiroth took over to wash his face, and Cloud watched him scrub at the lines without having to see where they were. It made his heart ache to know how very specifically Sephiroth remembered every mark.

He looked over his lover's legs, and tried to breathe through the knowledge that if he had time, Sephiroth could probably cover those long, muscled legs in scars as well. That if he could reach, he might cover his back in them as well.

It wasn't a conscious decision that drove him to press his face against Sephiroth's sternum in the middle of the shower. The very thought of the hurt his love had endured drove him to hold him close. Sephiroth didn't protest. He just let out a slow breath and wound his arms around Cloud and held him in return. Cloud could feel him breathe, their hold tightening with each inhalation.

They stood wound together until the shower ran cold. Sephiroth turned it off with a foot, and Cloud had to laugh at the utter ridiculousness of the move.

"I didn't want to let you go," Sephiroth muttered almost grumpily.

"You're adorable," Cloud responded. "I can't believe you drew all over yourself in permanent marker. You'll give yourself ink poisoning like that."

Sephiroth scoffed at the very notion, and Cloud nuzzled even more deeply into his damp skin. For a moment more they were still, then Sephiroth stepped carefully away, drawing back the shower curtain and yanking a towel off the rack to wrap around Cloud's shoulders.

"You're starting to shiver," he explained softly, pulling his sopping wet hair over one shoulder to wring it out into the shower. "It is cold with the water off."

"You're warm, though," Cloud muttered.

Sephiroth gave him a half smile and stepped out of the shower, wrapping his hair into a turban with one of their rather scant selection of towels. "I will be warmer with both of us dry."

Cloud shivered briefly despite himself, and rubbed himself off swiftly with the towel. He didn't have any clothes cleaner than the ones he'd been wearing—Despite Zack's delivery, they still had to wash them by hand—so he pulled his pants back on, sighing to himself. He'd wash the clothes he had again that evening. If nothing else it would appease Sephiroth's unease with dirty things.

He looked up, watching Sephiroth from under the spikes of his damp hair. The tall man was looking at himself in the mirror, a weary look on his face. As Cloud observed him, Sephiroth lifted a hand to drop a delicate touch to his own neck, tracing over the dotted line there.

"Seph?" Cloud whispered. "Would you… Leave your shirt off?"

Sephiroth jerked his hand away from his neck as though he'd been burned, and Cloud quickly averted his eyes, pretending he hadn't been watching. There was a moment of silence before the man spoke again.

"I will if you will," he murmured softly.

"But—"

"I want to learn your new scars as I have learned every inch of you," Sephiroth murmured. "And I can only imagine you would like me to stay shirtless so that you can learn my old scars. We may as well combine our efforts."

"Will you let me touch?" Cloud lifted his head to look at Sephiroth, the towel still draping over his shoulders, held closed by his hands over his chest.

"If you will," Sephiroth glanced once to his reflection before returning his weary look to Cloud. "Then I will reciprocate."

Cloud bit his lip, clenching his hand a little tighter in the towel that guarded his scars from sight. Then he let out a slow breath, blinking back tears, and let the towel fall open, leaving his thin chest bared before his lover. He averted his eyes, rubbing silently at the mark on his wrist that despite all the ugliness of his scars was still the most shameful to him.

Sephiroth bent slowly before Cloud, tilting his head to press a soft, warm kiss to the center of Cloud's chest, where they two top parts of the Y-shaped scar met. Cloud let out a shaking breath at the tender touch, and tried to fight back memories of watching hands sink inside him past the parted flesh.

"I might be sick," he whispered. "Just to warn you."

"If you need to, that's alright," Sephiroth said in reply, looking up at Cloud from behind heavy, dark lashes. He always looked tired—his eyes a little bloodshot no matter the time of day. The stark red color of the dotted line arching over his eyelid matched the blood vessels with disturbing precision.

Cloud felt the sickness recede slightly as he took in the look of Sephiroth's face with its drawn-on scars. He lifted a hand carefully, tracing lightly over the marks. Sephiroth closed his eyes under the touch, pulling back after a moment of being caressed.

"The living room is better suited to such investigations." He said softly, his face averted.

He looked wounded, and Cloud felt rage rise in the place of sorrow. Rage at the man who had turned his beautiful, powerful lover into someone who could have such a look on his face. Just for a moment, he wished that Hojo was alive again so that he could destroy him all over. He shivered the thought away, and nodded to Sephiroth, trying to summon a smile for him and almost succeeding.

It was obvious that Sephiroth was far from relaxed as they walked into the living room. Their fingers tangled together gently to keep them connected as they moved. Sephiroth always prowled when he was tense—a motion too smooth to be considered stalking, and yet distinctly defensive. Cloud watched him, and felt his unease slowly melting in the face of Sephiroth's own uncertainty.

"You didn't think this through, did you?" He sat lightly on the couch next to Sephiroth, perching lightly still facing his lover.

"This was not exactly my plan, no," Sephiroth murmured after a moment, fiddling with the towel he'd wrapped his hair in until it came apart and his hair tumbled in wet disarray down his back. "I may have panicked slightly. It had never occurred to me that your scars would bother you."

"Wouldn't they bother you?" Cloud asked.

Sephiroth looked down at himself and gave a helpless shrug, his own fingers lifting to trace over the drawn-on puncture wounds on his side. "I suppose. But I have never considered it before. It is just one of the things that is impossible for me. I cannot cry, and I cannot scar. It makes it difficult to tell how I should feel about either."

Cloud almost commented on the perks of being a soldier, but held himself back. The look on Sephiroth's face was anything but grateful. The blond bit his lip, staring at the distant look in his lover's eyes. He couldn't quite name it. Regret was the word that came to mind, but it didn't quite fit. Pensive reflection, perhaps. Cloud shook away the thought and let out a breath. He didn't need to know exactly what Sephiroth was feeling.

"So," he asked softly after a moment of silence and separation had passed between them. "Can I touch?"

"Yes," Sephiroth replied, giving a solemn nod, the strange look fading to be replaced with his usual stony calm. "So long as I may do the same."

"I'm alright with that."

The first touches were fleeting and delicate. A careful slide of fingertips over each other's bodies. Cloud traced the faded red marks on Sephiroth's arm carefully, and tried not to let the touches brushing over the burn scars on his chest bother him. His skin was sensitive, and goosebumps raised wherever Sephiroth's fingers traced. He felt sick feeling that tender touch on his scarred flesh, and he tried to force his attention onto his lover's marks.

He swallowed, stroking his fingers over the red marks on Sephiroth's arm, trying to focus on them. His panic subsided as he focused on his touch on his lover, replaced by a kind of terrible awe. Everywhere he touched there was another mark to touch. A dotted line across his forearm, a thick slash across his pectoral, the dots over his collarbone...

"There are so many," Cloud whispered after a long moment, when he couldn't handle the silence.

"They are not so numerous," Sephiroth whispered, his fingers splaying over the wide scar on Cloud's front. "And as I said, they will fade."

"I mean on you," Cloud whispered. "There are so many, Seph. Gods..."

His eyes burned with tears, and his voice was choked. He saw Sephiroth's brows twist in worry, but he couldn't say anything to relieve that worry. Cloud knew he should have been concerned about Sephiroth's touches on his thin, ugly body, but from up close the size and density of the patchwork marks on the Soldier was overwhelming. Cloud shook his head and leaned forward, sliding out from under Sephiroth's fingers to press his face against the man's warm chest.

"You don't need to cry," Sephiroth whispered. "I'm alright, Cloud."

The words just made it worse. He sounded so concerned. So confused. Cloud shook his head, trembling against Sephiroth's chest, his hands pressing gently against his lover's sides. Even with his eyes closed he felt like he could still see the terrible slashes of red staining Sephiroth's marble-perfect flesh.

Eventually, Sephiroth just wrapped his arms around Cloud and rubbed circles on his back as Cloud shook and sobbed against him, crying for both their pain. He couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Sephiroth could never have cried over these marks. It was so horrifically unfair, Cloud thought, that his beautiful, handsome lover had gone through so much suffering, and had never been able to release that pain in such a basic human way.

"Oh my Cloud," Sephiroth whispered, drawing the blond into his lap and curling around him. "I never know what to do when you cry."

"I'm sorry," Cloud whispered. "I wish I could have been there for you. I wish I could have carried you out of there like you did for me."

"Don't," Sephiroth whispered, his voice sharp for a moment and his hands tightening. Cloud went still briefly under the fierce touch, then relaxed as Sephiroth did, the ex-general's wide hands smoothing over his back gently. "Don't say that like I was on time to help you."

"You were though," Cloud whispered. "You saved me."

"I could not save you when it mattered," Sephiroth whispered. "If I had the skill to escape at all, I never should have let him touch you in the first place."

"Idiot," Cloud snapped, sitting back to glare at Sephiroth through his tears. "Don't you get it? If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be here. I might not always… I might not always react the right way, and I might be broken and scarred and ugly, but that's so much better than not being with you."

He barely made it through the words before his voice failed him, leaving him sitting in Sephiroth's lap, sniffling and holding back tears. Sephiroth gazed at him from bloodshot eyes accented by streaks of red marker. Cloud waited for his judgement, swallowing through his misery. Then Sephiroth let out a slow breath and sat forward enough to press his face to Cloud's chest.

"Whatever else, I am glad that you are here," Sephiroth murmured after a moment. "And if you truly feel bad for not saving me," he hesitated, as though struggling with the words that needed saying next, "then please do not. You have saved me, Cloud. In more ways that I can bring myself to tell you."

"I love you," Cloud whispered, cupping each of Sephiroth's cheeks in a hand, running his thumb lightly over the pale remains of the draw-on scar across his cheekbone. "And I'm sorry I get so wrapped up in my head I forget to say it sometimes."

"You have a lot to think about," Sephiroth murmured softly, stroking Cloud's hair gently. "I do not begrudge you taking your time to process. And when you feel like yourself again—and you will feel like yourself again—I will still be right here."

"And you say you're not good at things like this," Cloud whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Sephiroth's lips. "I won't freak out anymore. If you touch my scars. It...Might be nice. To feel something gentle there."

Sephiroth gave him a half-smile that curled the red mark across his lips, tilting into the soft touch on his cheek. "It has been for me."

Cloud let out a soft sigh, sliding his hands back into Sephiroth's hair as the silver-haired man leaned forward to ghost a kiss across his scarred sternum. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of the gentle lips caressing his skin. He let Sephiroth shift him, putty under the warm hands of his lover. He lay back on the sofa at the tactile urging, letting Sephiroth kiss and nuzzle and stroke over his chest, covering the ugly scars with marks of affection. Cloud shivered at the touch of Sephiroth's cold hair trailing across his skin, stroking his fingers through the damp mass as Sephiroth showered him in love.

"My turn next." He muttered.

"Hush," Sephiroth's lips curled in a smile even as he replied. "One thing at a time."

They spent the evening on the sofa, kissing each other's scars and exchanging soft, kind words. Sephiroth was asleep long before Cloud, his hair spilling off the sofa, still drying. Cloud lay across his lap, tracing gentle lines back and forth over the marked scars on his lover's collarbone.

"I won't ever ask you," he whispered to the man as he felt himself sinking into sleep, "not after all this. But I wish I knew what happened to you."

"That," the soft voice of a woman whispered, "I can do for you, my poor abused child."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers, thank you all so much for being here. I love every one of you, and always look forward to hearing what you have to say about my stories. A WARNING for this chapter. Things are dark again. There is violence, blood, murder, torture, and trauma, some of it aimed towards children. Please remember to look after yourselves first and foremost!  
> I'm very pleased with how this chapter turned out. I hope you all are as well.

The child had silver hair and wore blue scrubs. He was sitting on a simple bed, a book open in his lap. He was tracing his fingers over the lively illustrations inside. His touch slid over the drawing of bushes and blue sky and still pools with an affectionate but unfamiliar air. His inhuman green eyes held a pensive quality, wide and calm.

Sephiroth had never looked more innocent or more open.

The sound of a lock sliding lifted his attention, and he quickly closed the book, holding it to his chest and hopping to his feet, tossing his hair over one shoulder with a quick motion to make himself more presentable.

"Professor!" The child greeted as the door opened, rising to his feet. "I've been reading—" He trailed off abruptly into silence.

Professor Hojo stepped inside the room, an unkind smile on his lips. Sephiroth's body language shifted in an instant. He ducked his chin submissively and went still, the enthusiasm he'd displayed dying instantly.

"Professor Hojo," he greeted in a murmur. "Is Gast otherwise occupied?"

"Gast?" Hojo gave an ugly chuckle after the name, his eyes narrowing behind thick glasses. "Gast is gone, boy."

"Gone?" Sephiroth whispered, his fingers curling into fists. "When will he be back?"

"Who knows?" Hojo asked. "He's taken the other pet projects and run off with them. It's just you and me now, boy."

"He..." Sephiroth whispered, fingers tightening around the book. "He went with the ancient?"

"That's right," Hojo said, with an almost praising note in his voice. "Put that stupid book away. We have a great deal of work to do."

Sephiroth set the book down slowly with hands that shook and followed the dark-haired man out of the room with timid footsteps.

—

"What is this?" Cloud whispered, watching the child leave the room.

There was no response. Only a shift. Cloud watched the room fade—watched the child's book shine for a moment, then burn away.

—

"You know what you were designed to be?" Hojo asked the boy.

"A Soldier," Sephiroth replied. He looked older. An inch or two higher, and with less of that frail, broken hope on his face. He still looked afraid, though. His cheeks were rounded with youth and his eyes were wide and soft.

"What aspects must a soldier possess?" The scientist pushed a series of buttons at a work station which opened a glass door with a hiss, leading into a stark room with glass walls.

"Decisiveness," Sephiroth replied without hesitation. "Ferocity. Dedication."

"But most importantly," Hojo said, "he must be able to fight. Go inside."

The child eyed him, but did as he was told. When the door hissed closed behind him, Sephiroth jumped a little, turning in a circle to look around the enclosed space.

"Subject age, seven," Hojo said into a microphone. "Fighting skills test one. Opponent, Nibel Wolf."

"What am I to do?" Sephiroth asked from inside, turning wide eyes to Hojo.

"Survive it, boy," Hojo said, waving a hand. "You have trained every day of your life, have you not? Think of this as a first test of what skills you have gained thus far."

Sephiroth looked like he wanted to object. He wrapped his arms around himself as though in comfort, turning around the empty room again, looking for the danger.

When a hole opened up in the floor and a Nibelwolf was lifted through it, the child slid into a fighting stance. He was trembling at the sight of the monster so much bigger than he was. Hojo did not give him a count down before releasing the creature from its bonds. Between one moment and the next, the beast was upon him.

—

"Sephiroth!" Cloud screamed, moving forward to press against the glass door, shoving at the smooth surface with no success. It would not budge.

To his left, he could hear Hojo muttering to himself, taking notes as Sephiroth ran from the monster. The child was struggling to land a single strike against the beast of a wolf.

Then the creature grabbed hold of Sephiroth's torso, teeth sinking into unprotected flesh. It shook him as though he were no more than a hunted rabbit. The child couldn't even scream.

The world went fuzzy and dissolved, leaving Cloud standing in darkness, gasping for breath, with the image of the bloody child being shaken like a rag doll burned into his mind.

—

"Do you understand the assignment?" Hojo asked sharply, glaring down at the pale child.

—

"You're alive," Cloud whispered to the small version of his lover, reaching out to touch him. "You survived it…"

His hand passed straight through the boy's shoulder. The young Sephiroth's gaze didn't waver from Hojo.

—

"I'm to behave as if I am unharmed," Sephiroth murmured, his voice trembling. "And convince the applicant that I am in no danger. If she recognizes that I am afraid or hurt, I will be punished."

"Correct," Hojo said with a sneer. "Go on, then. Meet your new 'Nanny.' You must stay in the room with her for half an hour. Your time starts now."

Sephiroth stepped into the room without protest. The young woman inside had perfectly styled hair, pinned up in curls that fell just-so around her shoulders. She smiled sweetly at Sephiroth, and worry lighted instantly on her face at the look of him. Sephiroth tried to put back his shoulders—to walk with more confidence rather than cringing away from the person.

"Hi," she said sweetly. "Are you Sephiroth?"

"Yes ma'am," he replied.

"My name is Sharon," she said softly, rising from where she sat at the table to walk over and crouch before him. "Can I have a hug?"

Her hands rested on Sephiroth's back, and the child cried out in pain. His hand clenched in her shirt as she gasped, pulling away her hands swiftly.

"I'm sorry," Sephiroth started, "i just—"

"Oh Gods," she whispered, turning him bodily and lifting the back of his shirt. The bruising was dark and purple—the puckered scars from the Nibelwolf attack still fresh and healing. "What happened to you?"

"It was nothing," Sephiroth said quickly, pulling free of her touch and backing away from her. "Just an accident. It was nothing."

"But you're hurt!" The woman said. "Does your father know about this? You shouldn't be up and about!"

She stood, moving towards the door. Sephiroth moved to stop her, but the door opened before either of them could reach their targets. The gunshot was deafening. Sephiroth dropped to his knees, his hands over his ears and his eyes clenched shut.

When he opened them again, the sweet woman was on the floor, her mouth open in a look of surprise. Her perfectly curled hair tumbled around her on the floor in disarray.

"A very poor performance," Hojo said from the doorway. "No dinner for you tonight."

"You killed her," Sephiroth whispered, his hands falling away from his ears, limply, staring at the corpse on the floor. "She just wanted to help."

"Unless you learn to convince others that you are untouchable," Hojo slid the gun back into its holster under his lab coat, "then many more will die because of you."

—

"This is," Cloud whispered, watching the child tremble, wide-eyed and traumatized on the floor, "This is wrong. This is all wrong."

The images didn't listen. They didn't fade. They didn't change. Sephiroth sat on his knees, staring at the dead body, until Hojo dragged him out by force. As the room faded, Cloud covered his eyes, even if only for a moment.

"It can't have all been like this." He objected, shaking his head sharply.

The images around him sped up in response to his words, the past whirling by as though searching for some reprieve. Battles and blood, tests and injections, the boy floating in mako tubes, covered in leads and wires, and that same image of him sitting alone in an empty room that Cloud had seen before when a force of nature was urging his dagger towards Sephiroth's neck. He felt dizzy at the memory, disconnected from his body, but filled with anguish at the very thought of what he had nearly done. He didn't open his eyes again until the screaming started.

—

"You see?" Hojo pulled his gloves off, dropping them in a trash can. "That is why we use the restraints. Because if we did not, you would have just impaled your own heart. It is only a little test of your bone structure. No need to be so dramatic."

Sephiroth gasped on the table, his eyes glassy and wide. He was older than he'd been when faced with the 'nanny'—more a teenager than a child. His clavicle was sliced open. Cloud knew the mark. He'd seen Sephiroth draw it on himself. Hojo pulled out what looked like a miniature drill and leaned over the exposed bone.

"This will sting." The scientist commented mildly.

Sephiroth's scream cut through the air, louder even than the singing of the drill as it bored down into his collar bone. Cloud watched his hands flex and clench where they were bound to the table, and his head twitch, restrained by what looked more like a vice than a medical tool. Hojo sighed, sitting back, pressing a button on his drill that ejected the piece of bone it had drilled out into a sample tray.

"Is that necessary?" The scientist asked as Sephiroth's scream tapered off into hollow gasps of air. "You'll wake the whole building. And it's only the first sample of twelve."

Sephiroth groaned, his lips pulling back to bare his teeth in a grimace.

"No wonder you keep getting those poor girls killed," Hojo sighed. "You can't even hide your pain from me. No matter. If you cannot hold your silence, I will find another solution."

—

"Oh no," Cloud whispered as Hojo lifted the scalpel again and braced a hand against Sephiroth's throat. "No, Seph…"

—

Tendons strained under Hojo's touch heavy, and the bound teenager bucked against the restraints, trying helplessly to free himself, his face a mask of despair and fear.

"Professor!" He choked as Hojo put more pressure on his neck.

"Now don't be dramatic," Hojo scolded, gesturing with his blade. "Too much jerking around and you'll shift a vein into the danger area."

"Professor, please!"

Hojo didn't listen. He pressed down harder until Sephiroth's panicked voice choked off with a strained gasp for air. Then he started cutting. The slit opened up across Sephiroth's trachea, and the scientist muttered to himself as he stuck a finger inside, keeping the wound open even as the skin tried to heal. The moment he lifted pressure, Sephiroth was screaming again, louder than ever, strained and breathless and terrified.

And then Hojo made another swift cut, and the room went silent, leaving Sephiroth gasping for air that he could not get. Hojo snickered to himself, shifting back, leaving his scalpel where it was, embedded in Sephiroth's neck.

"There," Hojo said mildly. "Much quieter. Of course, now I'll have to re-open the incision over your clavicle… Pity. It won't be nearly as neat a second time with your healing factor trying to 'help.' At least I know that much of your design was not a failure."

Sephiroth bled in ugly spurts, his mouth gaping open, his eyes wide and glassy. The wound inched closed—too slow. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't scream. Hojo watched with a detached look, glancing back to the monitor that kept track of Sephiroth's vitals. It was spiking, every one of Sephiroth's systems on the verge of shutdown.

"How annoying," Hojo muttered. "You see what you've made me do?"

The scientist wandered away from Sephiroth's form, even as he seized and choked on the operating table. Awful gurgling sounds rose from him, a bloody foam rising from his lips, soaking through his hair, pouring off the table.

—

Cloud watched his lover's eyes roll back. Watched the man's lips tremble and part helplessly as he drowned in his own blood. Watched the hands that had been fighting his bonds go limp and still.

Cloud slid to his knees, unable to interfere. He knew what it was to die. He knew what Sephiroth was feeling. Dizziness swept through him, blurring the sight of the flatline on the monitor behind Sephiroth—the shrilling beeps of the machine as the young man died with the scientist's scalpel still sticking macabely out of his throat.

There was no one there to call for him or comfort him. No one to promise to save him like there had been for Cloud. No hope. No comfort.

And then Hojo wandered back with a familiar box, muttering "yes yes, I'm coming," under his breath to the shrieking machines as he went.

—

The phoenix down worked its magic well. Sephiroth jolted, choking blood. He gasped and coughed and spit, almost aspirating the liquid again with his head restrained as it was. The flesh of his neck healed around the scalpel, leaving it protruding obscenely from otherwise whole skin.

Cloud saw Sephiroth's mouth part and his muscles contract as he tried to scream. His voice didn't catch. The mark had done its terrible work, destroying the man's ability to make a sound. His vocal chords had been sliced through.

"Now," Hojo laughed to the choking, gasping man "Try not to die again until I can finish with you."

—

"You told me that didn't happen to you." Cloud whispered, something almost like accusation in his voice, the bitterness escaping where all his sorrow and pain and sickness could not. Sephiroth could not reply.

Cloud couldn't avert his eyes. Couldn't look away. Not even when Sephiroth's voice started to return and Hojo simply reached up to jostle the scalpel he'd left in the young man's throat artlessly, leaving Sephiroth to spasm in pain and silence as he finished his gory task, removing circles of bone one at a time, all with an eerie smile on his face.

"No one helped?" Cloud whispered, his own voice coming out choked and thick with sorrow. "No one came?"

But he knew the answer to that. He'd seen it flying by with the progress of years. Hojo had taught Sephiroth in the vilest way that people who came to help were victims waiting to happen. Every one of the women he'd been introduced to had wanted to help him. Every one of them had been murdered in front of his face. If someone had come to help Sephiroth, he never would have accepted the risk.

"How did you live?" He asked quietly.

The scene blurred out, and Cloud tried not to watch the way Sephiroth's toes curled in agony as the vision of the torture faded from his sight.

—

Sephiroth was getting too old to use the babysitter ruse anymore. Hojo had switched to bringing in prospective tutors. Sephiroth was taller than the woman he was sharing the room with. He kept his eyes averted, his arms crossed, and his face empty. He counted the seconds in his mind.

Hojo opened the door after half an hour, and Sephiroth slid his gaze over to him without letting a flicker of fear through. He wouldn't show pain.

"She is not worth my time," Sephiroth said darkly, not so much as looking at the woman sitting at the table.

"What an unpleasant young man!" The woman huffed, standing abruptly. "I think you had best find someone else to help you with your homeschooling, Professor!"

As she stormed out, Sephiroth wanted to scream in triumph. Years of trying, and he'd finally done it. He'd finally saved one of them. It took everything he had not to slide down the wall in relief. He clenched his fists to hide their shaking from Hojo.

"Proud of yourself, boy?" The man in the doorway hissed. "You're finally proficient enough to do what you should have years ago."

Sephiroth turned his eyes to Hojo and stared blankly. It had been easier than he'd thought to blank the woman out—to treat her as though she wasn't even there. He'd seen Hojo do it enough times. He stared at the scientist the same way he'd stared at the 'tutor.' As though he were lower than dirt.

"Come," Hojo snapped peevishly. "We have more tests to run."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" Sephiroth asked in a low rumble, refusing to break free of the character that had provided him the first protection he'd felt since Gast left him behind.

"What?" Hojo said, his eyes widening in fury behind his glasses.

"Do you think I fear your tests and your pain?" Sephiroth asked, pushing off the wall. "In the end, we both know which of us is the god, Hojo. And it is not you."

The scientist turned red with rage, and Sephiroth let a cruel smirk run across his lips. It was his first victory against the man. He didn't care how much he suffered for it later. He was going to relish it for now.

—

Cloud wanted to cheer and to scream at once. This was the man he knew. This asshole of a man, snide and condescending. And this was how he'd come into that—By trying to protect the lives of those around him. Cloud didn't know what to feel. He was empty of emotion, watching as Sephiroth followed Hojo out of the room of his own will, casting a triumphant look behind himself at the empty space, as though relishing the victory he'd just experienced. The victory that consisted only of watching a furious woman storm away.

He stepped forward as the image of Hojo tying Sephiroth down played, sitting on the side of the operating table despite the fact that he was well aware that Sephiroth couldn't see him and he couldn't touch. He stayed by the man's side as Hojo opened up his arm, pinning the flesh open and prodding around with electrical stimuli inside, more to inflict pain than for any purpose. Sephiroth's screaming filled the room

"I'm sorry I was so late," he whispered turning away from the torture to look at Sephiroth's face.

The memory of Sephiroth was holding his mouth tightly closed. His expression was blank. He was not screaming, though the sounds of agony filling the room disagreed with the visual. The memory of Sephiroth looked more bored than hurting, and the cold distance in his eyes cut straight through Cloud.

Cloud lifted his head, his eyes widening. He looked around the room, sick with realization.

"Is this," he whispered. "Is this his…"

Sephiroth's voice rose around him, howling in pain as Hojo muttered to himself and prodded more deeply.

"Is he remembering this?" Cloud screamed, rising from the bedside. "Is that how you're-"

His eyes caught on a shadow of a figure, crouched in the corner of the room, and he turned away from the gory scene, going to the shadow. The moment he reached out to it, color snapped into the image. Sephiroth's head was thrown back in pain, his teeth bared against the scream in his throat. His eyes were rolled back, glassy, unseeing.

"Seph!" Cloud called, reaching up to catch him in a tight hug. "Seph, you're okay!"

The general gasped, twitched, and dropped to his knees. Behind Cloud, Hojo gave a bark of laughter, and Cloud heard the thump of Sephiroth's body jerking helplessly against its bonds. The Sephiroth in front of him buried his face in Cloud's midriff, screaming anew. Cloud wrapped his arms behind Sephiroth's head, curling over him protectively.

"I've seen enough!" He called to whoever was listening. "I've seen enough!"

"One last thing." The voice of the Goddess replied as the room faded around them and Sephiroth's screams died away, leaving him trembling and gasping for air against Cloud's stomach, lost in his own memories.

—

The corpses on the floor were very poor company. Sephiroth prodded the arm of one of Hojo's now-dead recruits. They were never any fun anymore.

There was something off about him. A malevolence curled around him like smoke, clinging to his slender muscled form like a second lover. Sephiroth let out a slow breath, tilting his head back, and smiled wickedly. There was blood on his face, on his hands, on his blade. It felt good. Like being cleansed. A quiet laugh escaped him.

"Enjoying yourself?" Hojo asked over the intercom.

"Just thinking, Professor," Sephiroth replied in a low purr, "Of all the fun I am going to have when you finally let me go and play at war."

"And to think you used to be such a bleeding heart," Hojo muttered, more to himself than anyone, aiming the words to hurt.

Sephiroth smiled sharply, and the smoke curled densely around him. He didn't seem to notice it twining through his hair and playing with his face, as though it were dropping kisses across his skin.

"You never let me be the one to kill them before," he murmured. "Now tell me. How long must I 'play nice' before I dispose of these playthings of Hollander's that you have told me so very much about."

—

"But that's not what happened," Cloud insisted as the memory faded, his fingers carding through Sephiroth's hair protectively as the man moaned against him as though in pain, even at that memory which should not have harmed him. "They were his friends."

"There is a sickness inside him," the voice warned, "that thrives in destruction and death. Eventually, it will rise again. Be cautious, my avatar. Know what it is that you court."

Something released, and the images of the labs faded, leaving only darkness. Sephiroth let out a sigh of relief against Cloud, his fingers clenching in Cloud's shirt.

"I'm sorry," Cloud whispered, stroking Sephiroth's hair. "If I'd realized what she was doing, I wouldn't have let it go on. Are you okay?"

"I want to wake up," Sephiroth whispered against his shirt. "I want to leave this nightmare. I don't want you to know any of this. I don't want anyone to know."

"I know," Cloud slid to his knees until he could wrap his arms around Sephiroth on the same level. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked for this. I shouldn't have let her. You've already shared so much with me…"

"Don't talk," Sephiroth murmured into his neck.

Cloud fell silent, holding on tightly to his lover and rubbing his back slowly and steadily under his hair, listening to Sephiroth's breathing slowly evened out, settling after a long while.

"Wake up," Sephiroth, pulled back slowly from Cloud's shoulder, his eyes bloodshot but still dry, and in the dream they still looked like they had when he was a child—just as innocent and painful. "Wake up, Cloud."

—

They woke up together on the sofa, tangled around each other. Cloud had tears drying on his face, and had left damp marks on Sephiroth's chest where he'd cried against him during the night. He lifted his head to speak, but cut the words off when Sephiroth shifted, carefully removing Cloud's hands from himself and standing.

"I'm sorry." Cloud whispered, his voice rough with sleep.

He felt nauseous and empty. It was too much. He'd seen too much. He couldn't process it. Especially not while looking at the cold, distant look on Sephiroth's face and the still-vibrant red marks strewn across his torso.

"I didn't think she actually would," Cloud whispered, fighting back tears. "Please don't be mad at me, Sephiroth."

"I am not mad," Sephiroth murmured, his eyes lowering to the ground. "I need some time. To think. Will you be safe?"

"I will be," Cloud agreed instantly. "Take your time. I'm so-"

"Don't apologize," Sephiroth shook his head slowly. He looked tired. Defeated. Worn. Cloud stood slowly, reaching out towards him. Sephiroth stepped away from the touch, but brushed his fingers against Cloud's. A rejection, but a gentle one.

"Eat some if you can." The man said softly before he left the room on quiet feet.

Cloud listened to the door shut behind him, and sat down slowly on the sofa, trying to comprehend what had just happened between them. It wasn't for another fifteen minutes that he realized it was the first time in a long while that he had truly been alone.

He swallowed, his fingers twisting together anxiously. He didn't remember how to do this. The house felt empty and threatening without Sephiroth in it. He curled up slowly on the sofa, staring down at the carpet. His mind couldn't escape the image of the scalpel protruding from Sephiroth's throat. Eventually he had to move, standing and pacing around the room in agitation.

"It was an accident," he whispered to himself. "I did want to know, but I didn't mean to go behind his back. He'll forgive me for this, right?"


End file.
